The great forest that spread to the northwest of Imperial Capital Zebuldia.
Half-hidden among the wild beasts that called the forest home, a narrow trail—barely more than a game path—led deep into the woods. At its end stood the Treasure Hall in question.
White Wolf's Den.
It was named for the Silver Moon—lupine creatures native to the great forest, their fur a shimmering pelt of silver-white that evoked the image of a radiant full moon. The area had once been the territory of massive Silver Moon packs.
With powerful limbs that let them weave between trees at breakneck speed, and fur that deflected every offensive spell cast at them, they were the forest's grim reapers. Their fangs could crunch through the bodies of even seasoned Hunters. They were not particularly strong spellcasters themselves, but they possessed just enough magical cunning—and enough numbers—to bring down creatures far more powerful than they were.
Yet for all the terror the Silver Moon inspired, they had two critical weaknesses.
Even fully grown, they stood barely a meter tall.
And then there was their moon-colored fur—a sight that no one, no matter who they were, could behold without being captivated.
Bone, fang, and pelt alike—the raw materials harvested from a Silver Moon were among the most valuable monster drops in existence.
Valuable enough to rival the very fruits of a dangerous Treasure Hall assault.
And so the Silver Moon became prey for visiting Hunters.
A creature that possessed wisdom, strength, and numbers in abundance—yet was outmatched in all three by the Hunters who sought them. Monsters were living things. No matter how powerful, they didn't spontaneously manifest like the Phantoms that roamed the Treasure Halls.
Thus, before long, the wolves were hunted to extinction.
As the Silver Moon dwindled in number—mirroring the Imperial Capital's own growth—their scarcity only drove the value of their pelts higher. A creature once regarded as a threat to be wary of upon entering the forest was reduced to a mark of "luck" should one ever encounter one.
And by the time the Imperial Capital came to be known as the holy land of Hunters, the Silver Moon had vanished entirely, leaving behind only their widely scattered dens—a testament to the great packs that had once roamed the land.
White Wolf's Den.
The rumors had only begun circulating in the last decade or so: that a wolf drenched head to toe in blood had been seen appearing in the very dens that should have been abandoned long ago.
§ "This is creepy! This has to be some kind of grudge, right? Ugh—I'm terrible with stuff like this."
I flung the documents I'd been handed aside and shuddered. Just thinking about it was enough to make me want to hurl.
I was already mediocre at the best of times, but in Treasure Halls where ghosts appeared, I was famously the most useless member of the party. Absolutely the kind of person who would never survive a test of courage. For starters, I didn't even have the guts to try.
Eva watched me blanch with an amused half-smile.
"There's no need to be that frightened…"
"The history-reflection type, of all things. That's a rough hand to be dealt."
Treasure Halls generally manifested in areas overflowing with Mana Material, but they were known to come in several varieties.
Those that appeared entirely unrelated to their location.
Those that bore the distinct environmental characteristics of where they spawned.
And those that reflected the history of the place itself.
Research into the manifestation rules of Treasure Halls was still ongoing across every nation. Nothing definitive had been established yet, but this case was a hybrid of the second and third types.
Once driven to extinction by humanity, and now—emerging from nowhere—a crimson great wolf prowling the remnants of its ancestral dens. I didn't exactly feel sorry for the Silver Moon, but the whole thing was deeply unsettling.
"According to testimony from Hunters who once fought Silver Moon in the wild… the Phantoms seem considerably stronger than the real thing was."
"Ha ha… with that kind of firepower, I doubt there'd even be a pelt left. That takes the fun out of it."
I forced out a hollow laugh at the very least.
The living illusions that appeared within a Treasure Hall's domain—Phantoms—were manifestations composed of Mana Material, following the same principles as the Treasure Hall itself.
Setting aside whether they were stronger or weaker than actual monsters, Phantoms had several clear differences from their living counterparts.
One of the most notable was that they left no remains.
When a Phantom was destroyed, it reverted to Mana Material and dispersed into the air almost immediately.
That's right. Just like an actual phantom—illusory through and through.
In extremely rare cases, fragments of a body that had been manifested with extraordinary intensity might persist as physical objects, but you certainly couldn't strip their pelts.
Complaining about terrifying creatures like these being inside a place you'd voluntarily entered? That was a Hunter's own fault, plain and simple.
Eva flipped through the Treasure Hall documents she'd had delivered, a contemplative expression on her face. She showed no sign of fear. She probably treated it all as something from another world entirely.
"Still, based on this information, it seems like the Level 3 difficulty isn't due to the terrain or the dungeon's mechanics—but rather the strength of the Phantoms."
"Hmm. I think it should be fine, though. Tino is pretty much overkill for anything…"
A Treasure Hall's level was a composite rating that factored in the overall difficulty, the number of Hunters who'd returned alive, and more.
When the gimmicks and environment were forgiving, the Phantoms and monsters that appeared tended to be stronger to compensate.
Which scenario a Hunter preferred depended on the individual, but in this case, both Gilbert and Tino were pure brawlers, so even a somewhat powerful Phantom shouldn't pose a real problem.
Come to think of it, I'd just seen Tino fight for the first time in a while, and she was basically not human anymore. I'd more or less expected it, but still—there was no saving that girl.
"Gilbert actually agreed without much fuss, huh."
"Who knows. Maybe getting beaten black and blue by Tino made him do some soul-searching. Or maybe it helped that I put some pressure on him using the intel Eva dug up…"
Eva Renfield was an incredible person.
She had no field experience as a Hunter, but she'd been involved in clan management for several years now, and above all, her background in commerce within the Imperial Capital was invaluable. She still had close ties to the trading company she'd worked with previously, and she handled everything from procuring clan supplies to leveraging her extensive network for intelligence gathering—and even the occasional inspection from the upper echelons of the Empire—all without a hitch.
She'd also gathered the profiles on the three candidates I'd requested in a remarkably short time.
I truly didn't know how to repay her. She was on par with Ark in that regard.
If the requirement that the Clan Master be a Hunter of Level 5 or higher hadn't been in the bylaws, I would have handed the position over to her in a heartbeat.
The memory of Gilbert's expression when I'd casually mentioned that flashed through my mind, and I couldn't help but let a laugh escape.
"Man, the look on his face was priceless. Having too much talent really is its own burden, huh."
He'd bulldozed his way through Treasure Halls at breakneck speed, but his party couldn't keep up. This industry was full of stories like that. It happened all the more when the talent gap was painfully obvious.
What set him apart from me was that Gilbert had been the sole genius in his party. And rather than trying to mend fences with the others, he'd chosen to leave on his own.
Actually, our situations were almost completely inverted.
He'd probably been at least half out of sheer stubbornness. There had been something almost self-destructive about the way he carried himself.
A young prodigy developing a god complex, resentment festering because of it—it was the most cliché story in the world. My pattern, frankly, was the rarer one.
Well, the biggest victims were the other party members—dragged into dangerous Treasure Halls they had no business being in by Gilbert's reckless charge, only to get into a fight and be thrown out of the party.
"Did you reform him?"
"Not really. I just said what needed to be said and let him do what he wanted. I probably bruised his ego a little, but honestly, I'm in no position to lecture anyone about personal growth."
Between Tino, who seemed to have developed some weird fixation on me, the impressionable Rietz who'd probably fed into it, and the whole Gilbert situation—which was beyond saving—the clan's roster of eccentricity was overflowing.
And above all—I was the one running the clan halfheartedly. Who was I to lecture anyone?
I occasionally got pulled into consultations from clan members about their personal relationships, but please—I couldn't handle that kind of responsibility. Sort it out yourselves.
Eva gave a small nod, maintaining her characteristically straight-backed, elegant posture.
"Understood. Let's just leave it at that."
"………"
Eva was brilliant, but every now and then she had a way of interpreting things that left me scratching my head.
As long as she kept doing her job, though, I couldn't complain. And I owed her too much to even try.
The conversation was getting a little too close to home, so I changed the subject.
"Oh, by the way—that Treasure Weapon Gilbert had. It was actually a really nice one."
"The Purgatory Sword?"
The memory of the greatsword sheathed in its black scabbard brought a grin to my face.
I loved Treasure Weapons. They were my one solace.
Treasure Weapons were wonderful. Truly. It was no wonder Hunters across time and regions had risked their lives searching for them.
What made them so great? The fact that anyone could use them. Any person could wield abilities that bordered on miracles. You didn't need extraordinary talent. How magnificent was that?
Well, I personally owned a few but rarely used them. Still, good was good.
"Man… the Purgatory Sword. Think he'd sell it? Flame attribute infusion and range expansion—maybe if I looked into it properly, there'd be other effects too, but—"
He probably wouldn't sell it, though.
Treasure Weapons took a considerable amount of time to get used to, and once you did, most people were reluctant to part with them.
I'd gotten a little carried away describing the Purgatory Sword's virtues based on the brief time I'd handled it, when I noticed Eva watching me with an exasperated expression.
I hadn't even realized I'd been rambling with that much enthusiasm. I pulled my expression back together just as Eva delivered the killing blow.
"Squandering resources is inadvisable, I believe."
"No, no—it's not squandering—"
"Flame attribute infusion and range expansion? Claude, you already own multiple Treasure Weapons with those effects."
Multiple? Please don't lump them all together like that. Each Treasure Weapon was a unique miracle—each had its own quirks, its own subtle differences, no matter how similar they might seem on paper.
I was about to protest when I caught the sharpness in Eva's gaze.
Being in a weak position, I answered in a small voice.
"…Well, flame attribute infusion and range expansion are pretty common among weapon-type Treasure Weapons, I suppose…"
The Imperial Capital had numerous shops that bought and sold Treasure Weapons, and if you disregarded raw power and ease of use, there were plenty with those two features. But finding one that excelled in both to a high degree? That was rare.
And the Purgatory Sword, compared to the seven similar Treasure Weapons I'd handled before, had been remarkably well-behaved and easy to control. No wonder Gilbert had been able to master it so quickly.
But listing those reasons wouldn't convince Eva.
She might have figured out that I occasionally skimmed clan operating funds to buy Treasure Weapons. (I always topped up the shortfalls later, of course.)
I stared at Eva's face. But her light-purple eyes, with their almost translucent clarity that seemed to see through everything, betrayed nothing of her thoughts.
Left with no other option, I offered a halfhearted smile and batted my eyelashes.
"…A-anyway, setting that aside—if it's alright with you… how about we go grab something sweet sometime?"
A little sugar always made people friendlier. At my suggestion, Eva's eyelid twitched ever so slightly.
"…That's something you want to eat, isn't it, Claude?"
"……No, that's not it at all."
When had she figured out I had a sweet tooth? I'd been so careful to keep that image under wraps… This was exactly why you could never let your guard down around her.
§ § § The clan lounge.
Tino regarded the members of the temporary party with a solemn expression and delivered her first instruction.
"First… write your last wills."
"W-wait, hold on?!"
Ruda scrambled to her feet, slamming her hands on the desk.