I Picked Up Some Dead Stock (1)
The hero rank evaluation was over.
In an instant, the plaza transformed into yet another battlefield.
"Typhoon Hero! Please spare me just a moment of your time!"
"Our marquis house would like to offer you our patronage!"
"I wish to join your party!"
Nobles, merchants, and adventurers mingled as they swarmed the new heroes. Even active heroes already out in the field stood out among the crowd. It was a fierce contest of wits to snatch up promising talent first. Especially around the Typhoon Hero, people packed in shoulder to shoulder. Anyone could see he was this batch's top prospect. At that rate, not only tonight's dinner but a whole month of meal appointments would already be booked solid.
"Whoa."
An involuntary gasp of admiration slipped from my mouth. So that was what a hero's life looked like. A glamorous existence that seized honor and wealth and soaked up everyone's attention all at once. Honestly, I felt a little envious.
Then someone walked toward me. Oh — so my chance had finally come. But the man checked my face and came to a sudden halt.
"By any chance..."
"Yes?"
"Are you the one who called the Director's underwear?"
"Could you maybe rephrase that?"
Without a second thought, the man turned around.
"Pardon the intrusion."
"Wait a second!"
My first opportunity vanished that hollowly.
A few more people approached after that. The problem was that the moment each of them confirmed my face, their footsteps visibly slowed.
"That's the Oh-Pan-Mu Hero."
"Shh, if the Director hears, we're dead."
"Still, he did get it right."
A wave of unfairness washed over me. It wasn't like I'd wanted to look. I'd just said what my authority showed me — so why did I have to take the heat? In the end, until the sun went down, not a single proper sponsor or applicant came to talk to me. Crowds thronged the other heroes, while the space around me alone stayed strangely empty.
"Is this some kind of barrier?"
Anyone looking would have said it was a perfect one.
The lodging provided by the Hero Management Bureau. I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.
I had definitely become a hero. Chosen by a god, destined to one day save the world. At least, that was what I'd believed until yesterday.
"So why isn't anyone coming?"
Through the window drifted the cheerful laughter of other heroes. Someone had signed a patronage contract; someone else had already found reliable party members. There were even guys having a raucous drinking party at the tavern. Meanwhile I just lay on my chilly bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"I'm the only one still without a sponsor or party members."
Time for a cold, hard look at reality. The situation was definitely the worst. At the most important first evaluation for a rookie hero, far from any shining performance, I'd been branded the weirdo who'd called the Director's underwear. Honestly, if I swapped places, I wouldn't approach that kind of person either.
"Okay. Situation assessed."
I gave a light nod. Acknowledging reality and surrendering to it were completely different things. If my first impression was wrecked, I just had to rebuild it from here. No sponsor? I'd find one. No party members? I'd recruit them. The great work of saving the world was never going to come easy in the first place. Thinking back, even in my past life, things had rarely gone according to plan. And yet I'd survived somehow, hadn't I?
"This might actually be for the best."
I tried a little mental victory: I'd become a hero who was firmly etched into people's minds. Plenty of other heroes wouldn't even have their names remembered. At least, thanks to the Director's underwear incident, I was burned deep into everyone's brains.
"Hmm..."
On second thought, that fact wasn't cheerful at all. Still, maybe notoriety was better than indifference.
"Alright. Tomorrow I'll start by going to the Hero Management Bureau."
Party members weren't going to drop out of the sky while I just lay there.
The next day, I headed straight for the Hero Management Bureau. You never knew. Someone might have changed their mind overnight.
"Has any patronage or party application come in for me?"
The clerk carefully checked the documents. A moment later, he answered in a thoroughly polite yet mechanical voice.
"There are neither patronage offers nor party applications."
"Not even one?"
"No."
"I figured there might be at least one applicant, even if not a sponsor."
"There are none."
"That's... kinda hurtful, you know."
"I am merely conveying the facts as they pertain to my duties."
That cold attitude hurt even more. Seeing me wilt, the clerk offered a consoling word.
"Still, the support stipend will be paid as normal."
"Sorry?"
"The Hero Management Bureau does more than just manage patronage."
From the clerk's explanation, the Bureau's responsibilities were far broader than I'd thought. Everything from managing hero ranks, paying rank-based support funds, settling patronage, introducing party members, to delivering various missions was all handled here. My curiosity snagged on the "mission delivery" at the end of the explanation, so I scanned the list of hero missions. Monster subjugation, caravan escort, herb gathering, and so on.
"Huh? Aren't these almost the same as Adventurers' Guild missions?"
"There is some overlap."
The clerk readily admitted it.
"Heroes also subjugate monsters, and they sometimes perform missions like caravan escort or herb gathering."
"So they're basically just adventurers?"
"The difference lies in scale and priority."
The clerk flipped through a few pages and added a detailed explanation.
"Adventurers' Guild missions are usually limited to the village or small-city level. Typical requests include wolf pack subjugation, caravan escort, bandit cleanup, missing person searches, and the like."
Definitely the classic adventurer domain.
"By contrast, missions handed down to heroes are larger in scope: large-scale monster nest subjugation, defense of noble territories, reinforcing border fortresses. Depending on the case, they even take on high-ranking demonkin elimination, Demon King army reconnaissance, or even direct imperial orders."
"The weight is completely different."
"Yes. And the most decisive difference is the Demon King army itself."
The clerk's voice grew a shade heavier.
"There are times when adventurers discover traces of the Demon King army during a mission. In those cases, the incident is immediately transferred to the Hero Management Bureau."
"Why?"
"Because responding to the Demon King army is exclusively the domain of heroes. The Adventurers' Guild isn't an organization meant to face the Demon King army head-on, and it's also a measure to prevent further damage."
Adventurers fight for their livelihood; heroes fight for the world. It sounded fine on paper. The problem was that right now I hadn't even managed to recruit a single party member, never mind saving the world.
"Speaking of which, do you need party members?"
"Desperately."
As if he'd been waiting for that, the clerk pulled a thick file from under the desk.
"This is the list of unaffiliated applicants."
"Unaffiliated applicants?"
"Yes. Just wanting to join a hero's party doesn't mean anyone can go find a hero on their own."
"Is there a reason for that?"
"Because heroes are beings who directly confront the Demon King army."
The clerk continued as he flipped through the file page by page.
"In the past, there were cases where unidentified applicants approached heroes and assassination incidents occurred. There were also cases of enemy-nation spies infiltrating, and Demon King army collaborators stealing information."
"Wait. Demon King army collaborators?"
The clerk's expression hardened slightly.
"It's not as rare as you might think."
"Good grief."
"That's why we thoroughly verify applicants' identities."
He lightly tapped the file.
"Currently, every applicant must go through a strict registration process. Identity confirmation, criminal record investigation, career verification, basic ability evaluation — only after all that can their name go into the database."
Hearing it, I had to nod. It was an obvious measure. They said the life of a single hero was comparable in value to an entire city.
"It's far more systematic than I expected."
The clerk offered a faint smile.
"Of course. While you heroes fight on the front lines, it is our Bureau's duty to firmly support you from behind."
At first I'd thought of them as just some administrative agency that handed out money. That had been a major misconception. This was the look of someone with clear pride in their work.
"So what kind of people are these unaffiliated applicants, exactly?"
At the question, the clerk's expression grew a little subtle.
"Simply put, people who have completed registration but have yet to be recruited into any hero's party."
"Ah."
In nice terms, waiting personnel; in less nice terms, dead stock. I understood perfectly. At the same time, I started to get a rough idea of what kind of people I was about to be introduced to.
I scanned the file that had been handed over. The first applicant had an extremely colorful career. The problem was that the career was a criminal history, not an adventurer's. Murder convictions, aggravated assault, extortion and threats — all lavishly embroidered across it. I quietly turned to the next page. What that guy needed wasn't a party member; it was a prison roommate.
The second applicant fortunately had a clean record. Instead, picky demands held him back. A private carriage and dedicated servants, high-class lodging and top-grade meals — the wishlist was packed full. Reading through the absurd conditions, I finally looked up at the clerk.
"Is this person really a hero party applicant? He sounds more like a noble young master who came to a resort for a vacation."
"Apparently he's a noble scion who ran away from home claiming he wanted adventure."
"Wants adventure but doesn't want hardship, huh."
The clerk nodded silently. I could fiercely relate to why he still hadn't been recruited.
The third applicant had no criminal record and decent skills. The problem was what was written in the special notes section. Mission failures in the past year: 4. Tavern bans in the past year: 17. Alcohol-related incident rate: 73%. I quietly closed the file.
"What the hell did this guy even apply to a hero party for?"
"According to his own claim, he loves adventure with all his heart."
"Sounds like tavern-hopping is his hobby."
The clerk didn't argue. Another case that made it clear why he was still sitting in inventory.
Anxiety started to creep in. Was there not a single decent talent in this whole list? Halfway resigned, I was flipping through the documents when one entry finally caught my eye.
Occupation: Mage.
Wait — a mage was still unclaimed? Mages were precious. Especially combat mages who roamed the battlefield — any party would welcome them with both hands. So why was such high-class personnel still left? Could his personality be a disaster, or was there some huge flaw?
Reading the suspicion on my face, the clerk gave a bitter smile.
"It's his age."
"Ah."
"His skill is outstanding. However, the prevailing opinion was concern that he might collapse on site."
Indeed — a reason that made instant sense. No matter how powerful the magic, if he keeled over from old age in the middle of a battlefield, that would be a problem. Still, I wouldn't know until I met him myself. In my position, being picky about a mage was ridiculous to begin with.
"I'll meet him first."
Guided by the clerk, I headed to a modest reception room. When I opened the door, the first thing that met my eyes was the silhouette of an old man sitting by the window. White hair falling to his shoulders, deep wrinkles, a frail frame leaning on a staff — anyone could see he was elderly. Honestly, a peaceful nursing home suited his look better than a brutal battlefield.
Yet strangely, my gaze kept being drawn to him. More precisely, because of his eyes. Far from clouded, the old man's eyes shone far clearer and deeper than a young man's. The depth of a sage who had contemplated long years, looking out at the world. And yet it wasn't oppressive or burdensome. Rather than mysterious, it felt almost comfortable. Like a grandfather who might peacefully play go in the neighborhood yard, yet at the same time someone who could have spent decades researching magic tomes in an ivory tower — that kind of peculiar atmosphere.
The old man smiled kindly as I entered.
"So you're Zick, young man."
"Yes, that's right."
"This old frame is called Ainz. As you can see, just an elderly mage."
He slowly rose from his seat. The motion was unhurried, yet strangely free of any unsteadiness.
"You possess an interesting authority, I hear."
"Looks like the rumor has already spread everywhere."
"The tale of you correctly naming the Director's underwear is already the talk of the entire Bureau."
"That story is a classic piece of tabloid nonsense that spread completely against my will."
"Hoho. People usually just call that a rumor."
I was already starting to wonder if I should regret this contract. Ainz let out a hearty laugh.
"Don't worry. At your age, everyone grows by making a mistake or two."
That wasn't a mistake. I was simply the victim of a vicious authority. Strangely, as I talked with Ainz, the tension that had been wound tight gradually loosened. His skill was guaranteed, and his character seemed excellent. The kind of talent that made you wonder why he still hadn't been chosen. Of course, I understood intellectually why other heroes had avoided him over the age issue. But that was all. Standing before me now was not just some decrepit old man, but a mage who held immeasurable experience.
Without hesitation, I held out my hand.
"Let's go together."
Ainz blinked, then laughed heartily.
"You decide surprisingly quickly."
"Snatching up good talent first is the golden rule."
"Hoho. A young man who knows how to say pleasant things."
And so my first companion was decided. The mage Ainz. Though age had left him as dead stock, at least in my eyes he was a gem of a talent.
But a party couldn't run on a mage alone. Hero and mage. Looking at just the two of us, it was a fairly decent combination, but heading off to face the Demon King army with this meager lineup was closer to suicide than mere recklessness. I urgently needed a vanguard who could take enemy attacks head-on at the front, and a scout who could open the path and read the tracks. If I could also get a priest to heal wounds, that would be the cherry on top.
I turned my gaze back to the unaffiliated applicant list. The first harvest had been reasonably successful. Whether luck would follow in the second encounter remained to be seen.
"Alright. Let's check the next piece of inventory."