The Magic Calamity.
Five years had passed since the so-called "Fittoa Region Teleportation Incident."
Lord Sauros B. Greyrat was dead.
His son, Philip B. Greyrat—mayor of the fortress city of Roa—and his wife were dead as well.
Some time after that report, Philip's daughter, Eris B. Greyrat, was reported dead.
With that, Senior Minister Darius Silvanus Ganius cut off his funding.
Individuals continued search efforts on their own, but the Fittoa Region Search Party had effectively disbanded.
The refugee camps shifted their activities from searching to pioneering.
And so, for the Kingdom of Asura, the teleportation incident came to an end.
But for those involved, nothing had ended yet.
---
Dragon Era, Year 422.
This was the Basherant Duchy, located in the northwestern part of the Central Continent.
The Basherant Duchy was one of the great powers of the Northern Lands—counted among the three great magic nations.
Its third city, Pipia.
Staying in that town was...
the adventurer who would be the focus of our close-up today...
A man known in the streets as "Quagmire."
He was one of those who had been flung far away by the teleportation incident, and one of the many who tasted despair when he finally returned to the Fittoa Region years later.
He had traveled to the northern part of the Central Continent—the "Northern Lands," as they were known—to search for his family, looking for them from country to country as an adventurer, one region at a time.
Quagmire's mornings started early.
A devout man, he rose before the sun had fully climbed and offered his prayers to the gods.
A quiet prayer to the deities housed in a small box.
Not from the Millis Church.
The Millis faithful would have frowned at it.
But his posture as he prayed was nothing but sincere.
After his morning prayers, what Quagmire did next was train.
He changed into clothes that allowed free movement and went for a jog around the town.
What supported him as an adventurer was his physical stamina.
Quagmire would say:
"I'm a magician, but before that, I'm an adventurer.
If I can't move when the time comes, I won't survive."
After about an hour of jogging, he performed a training routine unique to his homeland.
Something never seen in the Basherant Duchy.
He would lie face-down, use his arms, and push his body upward.
He would repeat this motion over a hundred times.
Then he would lie on his back and perform a sit-up motion another hundred times.
He did this every single day without fail.
"Muscles get jealous, you know. If you don't pay attention to them every day, they'll turn their back on you. Just like a woman... But unlike a woman, they won't suddenly disappear. Muscles don't betray you."
Quagmire said this with a lonely smile.
By the time he finished his morning exercise, the town was beginning to stir.
Quagmire headed for the dining hall on the first floor of his inn.
Time for breakfast.
An adventurer's average food intake was said to be two to three times that of an ordinary person.
That said, food in the Northern Lands was expensive, and some adventurers skimped on meals.
But Quagmire was different.
He ate.
He devoured roughly 1.2 times the usual adventurer's portion of the generously heaped rice and bean dish set before him.
A solid breakfast was the source of his strength.
After eating, Quagmire headed for the adventurer's guild.
The gathering spot for every roughneck in town.
When Quagmire stepped inside, eyes turned toward him.
Quagmire did not have a fixed party.
His style was to form temporary parties as the situation demanded and take on large commissions.
As a highly skilled magician, Quagmire was in great demand.
Today, once again, the leader of an S-rank adventurer party called out to him.
"Hey, 'Quagmire,' did you hear?
Apparently, a stray Red Dragon's shown up to the north!"
Soldat Heckler, S-rank adventurer.
With the sharply chiseled features typical of Northern Lands folk, he was a swordsman trained to advanced levels in the Sword God Style and intermediate levels in the Water God Style.
He was one of the more famous adventurers in this area.
The party he led was called "Step Treader."
One of the parties under the banner of the "Thunderbolt" clan, which operated across the entirety of the Basherant Duchy.
A combat-focused party that primarily took on subjugation commissions.
Step Treader had a party composition of six.
Two swordsmen.
One warrior.
Two healing magicians.
One offensive magician.
They had once been a party of seven, but ever since one of the magicians died in an accident, they had been lacking in firepower.
"Come on, 'Quagmire.' Why don't you join our party already?
You can't seriously be comfortable being a loner, can you?"
Soldat recruited Quagmire nearly every day.
But Quagmire never nodded his head.
"No, once I've built up a name for myself here, I'll be moving on to the next country."
Quagmire had a goal.
The search for his family—his mother.
But Quagmire knew.
Five years since the teleportation incident.
There was no way she could be found that easily.
That was why Quagmire spread his name.
While doing so, he searched each country methodically.
Down to every corner, making sure nothing was overlooked.
There was a calculation behind it: if he became famous enough, perhaps his family would find him first.
"Oh, but I will take part in the stray dragon subjugation."
Quagmire accepted the job commission.
If they succeeded in subjugating a dragon, his reputation would skyrocket.
They immediately headed to the counter and registered as a party.
"But surely we're not the only ones going? Which other parties are joining?"
"They're still recruiting... It's been a while since we had a big job like this. Everyone's going to be raring to go."
Dragon subjugation required multiple parties.
A single party doing it on their own would be... suicide.
This time, five parties had committed to joining the Red Dragon subjugation.
S-rank party "Step Treader"
A-rank party "Rod Knights"
A-rank party "Iron Mass Division"
A-rank party "Cave à Monde"
A-rank party "Drunkard's Nonsense"
Twenty-five people in total.
For a dragon subjugation, if you wanted to be thorough, you'd want seven or more parties.
This number was a little thin.
"Whoa, whoa—a Red Dragon here! This is the chance of a lifetime, so why are so few people showing up!?
Everyone here is A-rank! Where are the S-ranks?!"
"I heard a new labyrinth was discovered over to the east recently.
Maybe everyone went to check that out?"
Soldat was getting anxious.
Just then, one man sighed and spoke up.
"...We're pulling out. This is too much for us, even for us."
Cave à Monde withdrew, bringing the count down to twenty-one.
People expected the whole thing to dissolve.
This was too few.
Everyone thought so.
But then Soldat's voice rang out like a crane's cry.
"All right, with twenty-one people, the payout per head is going to be massive!"
Everyone had their doubts.
But no one went against their leader.
---
The twenty-one of them marched across the barren lands of the Northern Lands.
A road dusted with faint snow.
The trees had shed their leaves, their branches adorned with a white coating.
The long winter would be upon them soon.
"Quagmire, take point on scouting."
Quagmire obeyed Soldat's orders and used his magic to conjure a pillar.
He climbed atop it and surveyed the surroundings from afar.
With his keen eyes, Quagmire relayed the situation.
The Red Dragon was large.
If they scouted regularly, they wouldn't miss it.
Hmm?
Quagmire had spotted something.
"Two o'clock direction—Raster Grizzlies! A whole herd! Massive snow dust cloud!"
"How many?!"
"Eight... no, ten of them! They've noticed us! Coming straight for us fast!"
They were not the target.
A small group going after a Red Dragon had no spare energy to fight unnecessary magical beasts.
But the stray sparks of fire had to be dealt with.
"Scatter! Quagmire, get down and provide cover!"
"Roger!"
On Soldat's command, the four parties scattered.
They lay in ambush, surrounding the bear-type magical beasts that charged in as a herd.
"Quagmire!"
"On it!"
At Soldat's signal, Quagmire moved.
Just as his nickname suggested, he specialized in techniques that created mud bogs.
A herd of over a dozen Raster Grizzlies.
They suddenly found their feet caught in viscous mud that had appeared before them, slowing their movements.
"Now!"
The adventurers struck simultaneously.
Belonging to high ranks, their attacks were sharp and merciless, cutting down magical beasts one after another.
There was no room for hesitation.
If they didn't finish the job cleanly, they would be the ones to die next.
Every one of them understood that.
The Raster Grizzlies were wiped out in no time.
But with only a few left, someone noticed.
"Hey—a Red Dragon! It's coming!"
"The Grizzlies are fleeing from—woah!"
It was a Red Dragon.
Separated from its flock, the strongest creature of the Central Continent had fallen to the earth.
Its prey was the herd of Raster Grizzlies.
"Quagmire! What the hell happened?!"
"The snow cloud was blocking my view!"
The adventurers were powerless against the Red Dragon and trampled helplessly.
They had originally planned to spot it from a distance and launch a surprise attack.
Instead, without any preparation, they were the ones ambushed.
There was no chance of winning.
"Damn it—retreat! Retreat!"
The Red Dragon was a flying creature.
But its four limbs were powerful, and it moved with surprising agility for its size.
Even grounded, a dragon was a terrifyingly formidable being.
Chaos erupted.
Quagmire moved.
"I'll deploy a smoke screen! Scatter and run in every direction!"
Quagmire was calm.
With practiced hands, he cast fire magic to melt the surrounding snow, creating a wall of steam.
An improvised smoke screen using nature itself.
A seasoned magician deceived the enemy's eyes this way.
But the stray dragon was cunning and sharp-eyed.
Quagmire was targeted.
"...Damn!"
Quagmire ran.
In the opposite direction from his companions.
If he was the target, then leading it away was his role.
Quagmire was quick.
His daily morning training proved its worth.
He knew that the secret to survival was to keep moving and never stop running.
Frustrated, the Red Dragon's mouth ignited.
Fire spewed forth.
In an instant, the surroundings were engulfed in flames.
The Red Dragon's ultimate technique.
A fire breath.
If struck head-on, any living thing would be reduced to ashes.
Was Quagmire dead?
No. He was alive.
Quagmire had spun around and conjured a massive wall of water.
He burst through the billowing steam.
The lingering flames scorched the hem of his robe.
Without sparing it a thought, he formed a rock projectile.
The high-speed bullet pierced the Red Dragon's scales.
"Graaahhh!"
Projectile after projectile flew.
The Red Dragon dodged some.
But it could not dodge every high-speed projectile fired at it.
The Red Dragon immediately turned and fled.
It was a clever creature.
It had instantly grasped that this seemingly insignificant Quagmire possessed tremendous offensive power.
Quagmire did not pursue.
Was he letting his prey escape?
Just when that thought crossed minds—
"Graaaaahhh!"
The Red Dragon's roar echoed.
Ahead of it lay a mud bog.
The Red Dragon sank into the viscous mud.
Quagmire fed more mana into it.
The Red Dragon thrashed wildly, trying to escape the mud.
The mud around it grew even more adhesive.
"Oh... it worked..."
Quagmire murmured softly, with a hint of surprise, then smashed a massive boulder into the thrashing Red Dragon.
---
The scattered adventurers regrouped.
"Man, Quagmire, you really are something..."
"You didn't wander the Demon Continent for nothing, huh."
"I always knew you were strong, but you actually took it down?"
His companions showered Quagmire with praise one after another.
Quagmire was modest.
He did not boast or grow arrogant.
He knew that arrogance bred conflict.
"It was nearly dead when I fought it, too.
Still, I never expected to take it down all by myself. Never mind that—let's haul the dragon's carcass. Take as much as you can carry."
He generously offered to split his share of the spoils.
That was how his reputation spread throughout the country.
"You sure about that?"
"I couldn't carry it all by myself anyway, and if I left it here, the magical beasts would just feast on it. Take everything you can, and I'll burn whatever's left. Wouldn't want it turning into a Dragon Zombie."
And so, Quagmire's day came to an end.
In truth, the round trip to the Red Dragon's location took about seven days, but his day was done.
Today's harvest: Red Dragon materials.
He sold materials that could fetch a fortune, warmed his pockets, and returned to his lodging.
He ate a slightly more modest meal at a tavern compared to breakfast, then headed back to his room.
A devout man, he ended his day by thanking God for seeing him through safely.
That ritual marking the end of the day might have seemed strange to an outsider.
But to him, it was something precious.
And so Quagmire's day ended, and the next day his search for his family would begin again...
--- Rudeus's Perspective ---
It was nighttime.
I was eating at the tavern, same as always.
Of course, alone.
Meals were best enjoyed solo.
Solitary and extravagant—that's me.
It wasn't lonely or anything.
I just didn't like crowds.
*"And then—the Red Dragon appeared!"*
On the tavern stage, three bards had brought their instruments together for a performance.
One stood in front, weaving a tale in a clear, melodic voice, while the other two provided backing music and clanged out sound effects.
Bards.
A profession where you sang and played on tavern stages for tips.
In bigger cities, they sometimes signed exclusive contracts with theaters.
But that wasn't all.
There were quite a few adventurers who were also "bards."
They'd turn their travels with other adventurers into poems, or listen to stories from those who'd had exciting adventures and turn them into adventure tales.
Adventurers and bards got along well.
And in this world, where there was no concept of copyright, rearranging someone else's songs into your own version was perfectly commonplace.
They'd pool their signature songs, share ideas, and let the music evolve.
There were even groups of instrumentalists who formed bands and traveled the world.
Of course, even those guys had at least some skill in fighting magical beasts.
Adventurers who could sing, dance, and fight.
That was what a bard was in this world.
The three on stage right now were faces I occasionally saw at the adventurer's guild.
I was pretty sure they were a C-rank party.
Their name was the "Big Voice Band."
A wonderful name that showed their ambition to go big.
That said, their actual talent seemed rather lacking, as their original songs weren't popular.
Even without popularity, they kept creating, it seemed.
They'd even interviewed me about a subjugation commission I'd taken on recently.
What they were singing now was an adventure tale woven together from my story.
Something along the lines of "singing it into existence."
Or was it different?
Well, whatever.
I'd been hopeless with music since my previous life.
I once tried to make songs on some Vocaloid-type software, but I'd given up in an instant.
Since then, I'd maintained that the only instrument I could play was the bass drum.
And even that was being on the receiving end.
They took a story told by me alone and spun it into a performance.
Even if they lacked raw talent, their creativity deserved recognition.
Their songs were delivered in the tone of one of those village storytellers—the kind every town had one of.
From my perspective, it was like a documentary program.
So I found it entertaining to listen to.
But that flat, matter-of-fact delivery apparently made for an unpopular song.
People were already heckling—switch to a different song, they said.
And the subject of the song was right there in the audience. Brutal, honestly.
I was thinking all this when—
*Bang!*
The tavern door burst open.
Cold air rushed in.
Eyes turned toward the entrance.
A full-body shiver ran through the room.
"I have finally found you, Rudeus of 'Quagmire'!"
A long-eared elf stood there.
She was dressed like an adventurer, but with a distinctly dress-like quality.
A backpack on her back, a sword and shield hanging at her waist.
Her face, in a word, was beautiful.
Narrow, sharp eyes, long ears, golden hair.
And a slender body with a flat chest and long ears.
A textbook elf.
The finger she pointed was aimed at me.
All eyes turned to me.
"Huh... 'Quagmire' is actually here..."
The guy who'd been heckling moments ago wore a bitter expression.
But I ignored him.
I was magnanimous like that.
I turned to face the elf.
"So you finally found me..."
I replied with something noncommittal.
But something about her seemed vaguely familiar.
I hadn't done anything to offend anyone in recent years.
I'd made efforts to spread my name.
"Quagmire" Rudeus—my name had gotten around.
I'd helped people, avoided fights, and been careful not to earn a bad reputation.
This was the first time a beautiful woman had approached me like this, but I'd often been thanked by strangers.
She was probably one of those...
No, my instincts told me otherwise.
"From what I heard, you stand out so much that you were easy to spot."
"Weren't you just saying 'finally' a moment ago?"
"I expected you to be further east."
The woman said this while staring at me with her beautiful eyes.
Somehow, drool leaked from the corner of her lips.
She licked it away.
What, had she fallen in love at first sight?
Or was she drooling over the increasingly muscular physique I'd been building lately?
Heh heh. I had been training quite a bit recently.
I was in a growth spurt too. I'd been putting on muscle. Muscle.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing at all!"
The elf woman cleared her throat with a small cough and sat down next to me.
The tavern buzzed with an "Ooh!"
I could hear murmurs from the corners—"Quagmire has a woman?"—and the like.
Now that was surprising.
Who would have guessed someone like me could have a woman.
"Hoo."
She set her backpack down at her feet and scooted her chair closer with a clatter.
Close.
She was awfully close.
If I were the kind of hopeless loner this world called a "DT," I'd be thinking, "She's into me, isn't she?"
"My name is Elinalise.
Elinalise Dragonroad.
I was a former party member of your father, Paul..."
"Oh."
I see.
A friend of Paul's.
That explained why she'd been looking for me.
She must have been carrying some kind of message.
"And I am also a friend of Roxy's."
"Huh?! You know Sensei?! Where is she now?!"
Roxy's name—spoken by someone else's mouth for the first time in a while.
The excitement overwhelmed me, and I leaned forward.
Elinalise did not answer that question.
She didn't tell me the one thing I wanted to hear most.
Instead, she brought her mouth close to my ear, as if about to kiss me.
"I heard, did I not, that you single-handedly defeated a stray dragon?"
"Y-yes, well... it was nearly dead when I got to it."
"I can certainly understand why Roxy would brag about it."
I wasn't exactly brimming with composure.
But compared to when I'd faced the Dragon God Orsted, the pressure was far less.
Apparently, as long as you had something you could think of as "well, compared to *that*...", you could manage to stay calm.
"Hearing that Sensei brags about me gives me a ticklish feeling...
What are you touching?"
"Your chest. It's quite well-built, isn't it?"
I looked down to find Elinalise running her hands over my upper arm and chest.
No wonder it tickled.
And being told I was well-built didn't feel bad at all.
"Oh my?"
Elinalise's fingers touched something.
It was the pendant Lilia had given me.
"My, my, that's a charmingly rough little thing. Who gave it to you?"
"Our maid."
"A maid? Is she a long-eared—?"
"Huh? No, she's not... Why would you ask that?"
I'd let that slip. A careless mistake.
"Oh, it's nothing important."
Without seeming to care much, Elinalise showed me something attached to the sword at her hip.
An identical pendant.
But hers was far more exquisitely made.
If mine was an amateur's work, hers was a professional's.
"A matching pair, isn't it?"
As she said this, Elinalise leaned against me.
What was going on?
She'd been awfully physical since a moment ago.
"What is the meaning of this? Could it be that you've fallen for me?"
"Yes, you are quite handsome, aren't you? More than I expected. I'm impressed.
I thought you'd still be a child... but you're sturdy, and char-ming..."
Was she teasing me?
My heart fluttered just a little.
"Uh... well, you're quite beautiful yourself, ma'am."
Hmph.
But I was not the kind of hopeless loner who would get flustered by being teased.
Thinking that, I reached up and tilted her chin with my finger.
"Mm..."
Elinalise gently closed her eyes.
It was as if she were expecting a kiss.
I thought it had to be a joke, but her hand slipped behind my head.
"...Huh?"
Seriously?
There was a certain vibe going on here—wait, really? Was this happening? Was I about to go for it?
At that exact instant, Elinalise's eyes snapped open.
"Oh dear, how careless of me."
"Please stop messing with me like that."
"I do not tease men for fun. But I have no intention of becoming Paul's wife, and I do intend to remain friends with Roxy."
...What was that all about?
Apparently Paul had once had a falling-out with these people. Did that mean I, his son, was off-limits? And she wanted to stay on good terms with Roxy?
Well, whatever.
"So, Elinalise, what brings you to me?"
"I have come to bring you good news."
Elinalise smiled sweetly.
That day.
I learned that Zenith had been found.