Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Sodomora's Morning Star, Hassan
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Luna said she had business at the cabin with paperwork and cleaning.
“There’s a bunch of stuff I need to buy, and I’ll be busy today. See you tomorrow!”
“Yeah.”
I parted ways with Luna in front of the inn and headed back to the guild building.
I didn’t have anything particular to do, but for some reason, an obsessive thought gripped me that I needed to become stronger.
So, just as I was about to swing my sword at the straw dummies a few times, as Hippolyte had shown me, I sensed a presence behind me again.
Swish-.
“Is that you, Lady Hippolyte?”
“Oh, you guessed right without even looking.”
Damn, the only one who pops up behind me like that out of nowhere is Hippolyte. No need to ask. The others don’t usually approach me.
Anyway, ignoring Hippolyte, I kept thrusting my sword into the dummy—thwack, thwack. When you just want to hit something and vent your frustration, rough physical movement hits the spot.
Hippolyte spoke to me as I did.
“You’re working hard since morning. Good drive for improvement. I can sense you have a purpose in your swings. Must’ve been frustrating losing to me, huh?”
Her words brought back yesterday’s duel—or whatever you’d call it. I got utterly demolished one-sidedly.
But I didn’t feel particularly wronged about losing. It wasn’t even a fight to begin with.
To feel aggrieved, you need a close loss or equal skills. But explaining all that was a hassle.
“You could say that.”
“Hassan of Samaria. I thought you were just some punk street rat. You’re the best of your peers. Alright, I’ll correct your form properly.”
Swish-.
With that, Hippolyte stuck to my back and grabbed my arms and hands without hesitation.
Of course, all I felt against my back was the hard armor—no thrill or anything. But her invading my personal space so boldly always made my heart skip.
“A bit more angled, slash down like this—from the collarbone to the side—.”
She grabbed my hand and explained something, but honestly, I couldn’t focus at all.
Because from Hippolyte came the scent of perfume mixed with a faint sweat—or whatever you’d call it—something that drove blood straight to a man’s lower half, wafting intensely.
Like a wild beast. Scary, like she’d devour me.
“Good, not bad. Of course, it’s still pretty awful in every way. Come here often from now on. If I have time, I’ll check your form.”
After correcting whatever about my stance, Hippolyte started pulling away, perhaps heading to her duties. I called out to her back casually.
“Um, Lady Hippolyte. How do you become a hero?”
It’d been about two years since I came to this world. I’d heard people talk about heroes a few times.
But I never thought it related to me, so I ignored it. And I still don’t. Hero? Sounds kinda silly, not like “hero.”
“Hero?”
Hippolyte glanced back with just a slight turn of her shoulder and head. Her expression seemed to say, *What the hell is this guy on about?*
“You mean how to become a Hero class?”
“Yes. Do you need some kind of certification or something?”
“Exactly. There’s a certification.”
Damn, there’s actually a certification. I just asked, never thought there’d be a real one.
“Where do you get it?”
“Follow Mars’s path, and you’ll naturally reach it.”
With that, Hippolyte pointed to her chest with a finger. So I imagined her bulging chest area and the massive breasts inside.
What, bragging about her size? They were definitely brag-worthy. I’d felt them myself and knew the scale—couldn’t even fit in one hand….
“Unpleasant look. What are you imagining? I mean the dog tag.”
Ah-.
Only then did I notice the shiny silver dog tag near Hippolyte’s chest.
It was like an adventurer’s dog tag; the material changes with rank: iron, bronze, silver, gold.
“Those wearing golden dog tags are called heroes. It’s derived from the great master Kairos hanging golden necklaces on his disciples.”
I don’t know who the great master is, but anyway, gold-tier adventurers are called heroes. Or maybe adventurers entering the hero realm reach gold tier.
Either way, the golden dog tag was like a certification or diploma. My mind cleared, but damn, worries flooded in.
Elfriede blasts magic without chants, Hippolyte shoots sword beams. Even the guard captain with that badass hammer is silver tier?
What kind of monsters reach the gold tier that even they haven’t?
“Reaching gold tier won’t be easy. Reputation among peers, popularity with citizens—lots to consider.”
“No, you have to manage popularity too?”
“There are plenty with great skill but too cruel or tyrannical to gain recognition, so they never hit gold. Arrogant ones who can’t get acknowledged, like Altair of the Minerva Guild.”
Tch, need recognition from others too? Worst condition for me. I’m Hassan of Samaria, despised and mocked everywhere—not acknowledged.
“But drive for improvement is good. Aim higher as an adventurer, Hassan. And last time….”
“Yes?”
“No, nothing.”
* * *
I had a cheap 2-copper burrito from a street vendor for lunch and wandered the park. Hitting dummies really didn’t suit me.
Even training the normal way for a hundred days would just make me grow normally. Who knows how many weeks, months, years for strength to go up by 1.
“Chaos Eternal.”
Ding-.
『Name: Hassan Lv. 8
Strength: 3
Agility: 2
Vitality: 3
Karma: 57
Blessings: Blessing of Chaos | Amateur Handiwork | Cloak of Night』
Narrowing my brow at the floating text and numbers.
Don’t I have this weird ability others find bizarre? Using it should let me grow at least twice as fast.
But using illegal medicine in this world is a stoning offense. Gotta find a way.
“Well, if it isn’t him. Looking quite respectable lately, Barbaroi.”
Wandering the park aimlessly, I ended up at Sodomora’s library. It’s called a library, but it’s really a cramped used bookstore piled with old books.
Still, the knowledge here will enrich my mind.
“So, Barbaroi, what are you looking for? If you’re a hunter, you’d find it faster in the wilds outside the gates.”
The gaunt, gray-haired librarian approaches and chats me up.
I know it’s his idea of a joke, but his sense of humor sucks. Does burying yourself in books do this?
Clink-.
Glancing at the blue nameplate on the man’s neck, I asked politely.
“Mr. Erimantos. I, uh, want to borrow some books. Got an encyclopedia?”
“Encyclopedia? Yes. What for?”
“Reading.”
“Amazing!”
Damn, what else do you use books for? I suddenly wanted to crack open the librarian’s skull and peek inside.
“A Samaritan polishing knowledge. Quite novel. But procedures are procedures. Show me your dog tag.”
So I showed the librarian Erimantos the one clinking around my neck.
Fresh from the guild, bronze tag. Showing it off felt kinda proud. Me, a bronze-tier adventurer!
“Hassan of Samaria. Confirmed. That’s a pretty vicious necklace.”
Erimantos narrowed his eyes at the fist-sized holy symbol around my neck. As a bookworm, maybe he sensed some mystic power.
“To wear something like that. No effect? Feels like sly magic.”
“I feel nothing. Anyway, just give me the book quick.”
“Hmph, Samaritan mental shield, huh. Wait here.”
Erimantos vanished between the dusty shelves. When he returned, he held a ridiculously huge, heavy book.
“Here. Lose or damage it, you pay.”
“I’ll read at that table.”
“Then do so.”
Anyway, I took the thick, heavy tome to a corner table. The faded cover title—.
『One Book to Make Me a Continent-Man Too?』
Damn, the one I read before.
I flipped open the thick cover, rustled the pages, and read entries that stuck in my memory.
『Nox, Goddess of Night ? One of the primordial ProtoGenoi, governing the realm of dark night. Her powers are said to be immensely potent, predating Titan worship.
She resides in Pluto’s underworld palace, deep in the abyss where demons swarm and even gods hesitate to enter: the lowest depths of Tartarus.
That alone shows her might. However, she rarely leaves her domain, so little is known.』
Luna’s mom seemed way more powerful than I thought.
Damn, but why’s daughter Luna a Chikorita? Not her real kid?
No, maybe Nox is a super-powered Chikorita? Gigantamax Chikorita? Shit, that’s scary too.
Rustle, rustle-.
Flipping pages, I stopped at a familiar name.
Cle…. Cle….
Found it. Way in the back.
『Clepius ? Healer said to have lived decades ago. Records vary: Kalan region, or near Babelia or Calcuta.
Exceptional healer; could diagnose by eyes alone, innate genius.
But his skill brought doom. He revived the dead with medicine, angering underworld king Pluto.
Thus, Jupiter, overseer of divine law, struck him with lightning, imprisoning him in Tartarus’s depths for eternal torment.
At his father Apollo, god of light’s plea, Clepius was freed from below, ascending Hypos heights as god of medicine.
This strained Pluto-Jupiter relations; floating underground ruins are seen as Pluto’s protests.
New medical laws prevented repeats, bringing great changes above.』
Clepius, god of medicine.
Damn, diagnosing by gaze?
I thought reading letters via wrist was weird, but eyes? Beyond medicine.
Anyway, I kinda got why this world cracks down so hard on illegal medicine.
“If you don’t know something, ask, Barbaroi. I’m free, so I’ll answer simple stuff. Hate the ignorant, but not the eager learner.”
As I flipped pages, stuffing text into my brain, the librarian chimed in.
Guess with few customers and boring books, he wanted chat. Nothing passes time like talk.
Perfect timing; I had questions.
“Uh, got a medical question.”
“Medicine?”
Librarian Erimantos looked shocked.
Like telling a kindergartener to ask, and they hit you with “What’s Poincaré conjecture?” Then his eyes lit with odd interest.
“Medicine—cursed field now. Go on, what about it?”
“Not exactly medicine, more categories. What counts as illegal medical practice?”
“Asking about Clepius Law? Makes sense, not detailed in that book. Clepius Law….”
Erimantos hummed, fetched a thick law book from the corner. Something about statutes.
He flipped it open, read a part.
“Here. Violating these is illegal medical practice. One: Treating patients openly without temple or clinic approval. Two: Unauthorized healer using cure magic without temple report. Three….”
“Uh, sorry, how many?”
“One hundred fifty-five.”
Fuck, too many. No way I memorize that. So I’d just pick key questions.
“Question. Say I massage your palm.”
“Won’t happen. No hobby of holding men’s hands.”
“Just example. If I massage palm or back, fix shoulder stiffness—is that illegal?”
“Even a wildlander should know basics. If massage is medicine, we’d arrest every guy groping women’s chests. Just kneading count as practice?”
Muttering like *wildlands’ medicine is primitive*. He lost interest; chat ended.
So, massage is safe, no stoning? Damn, I was scared for nothing.
But setting up street-side like a mat seller? Too conspicuous.
For now, massage only trusted folks for karma gains.
Questions answered, I returned the book, stood to leave. Luna probably done by now?
“See ya, Barbaroi.”
“Later.”
Casual goodbye, heading out.
“Tall guy, black hair. Matches.”
“You Hassan of Samaria?”
Voices from behind. I turned: city guards in armor, shields, scabbards.
What? Why me? Damn, legs shaking, blood draining.
“…What’s this about?”
“No need to tense. Not arresting you. Actually, requesting help. Know a woman named Luna?”