—Clara Blumer stood on the deck, staff in hand, and let out a sigh.
"I really messed up..."
Flush with the exhilaration of her recent growth, Clara had unle—ed a barrage of cutting remarks on everyone around her. Now she hung her head in shame.
"Times like these, I really envy people like Eva the Elf or May the Kirin. They barely change at all after leveling up... Novem and Shannon don't seem to be affected much either."
Lyle was the only one who seemed to stand out, but Aria's Miranda and Clara herself had both stumbled repeatedly after their recent growth.
During the Trashee subjugation, every last one of them had felt physical changes right afterward. Clara hadn't been bedridden, but she'd still caused a scene around the others after leveling up, and now she was too dejected to stay in her room.
It wasn't like anyone was really holding it against her, but something made her not want to go back.
Aria and Miranda were currently in the room, bundled up under blankets and sleeping. That was exactly why Clara had stepped outside onto the deck.
"This post-growth high... I wish I could do something about it."
Even if she tried to rein it in herself, it wasn't the kind of thing you could control. That was precisely why so many people ended up causing trouble after leveling up.
You'd produce a mountain of memories you'd rather forget, and the polite thing for everyone around you to do was watch over you with warm, forgiving eyes.
Just as Clara sat there in her dark, sinking mood, someone called out to her from behind. It was Vera.
She held a bright crimson parasol over her head, one hand resting on her hip.
"Oh my? Is that Clara? What are you doing all alone?"
Clara turned around and answered honestly.
"I don't really want to face anyone right now. Can you understand that feeling?"
Hearing this, Vera seemed to catch on immediately and nodded. Then Clara noticed the package held in the hand Vera had resting on her hip.
"What's in that box?"
"This? Oh, it's a spare gun. I was thinking of giving it to Lyle... Ah, that kid, his weapons are all mass-produced Sabers, right? I've got plenty of spares lying around. Do you think he'd be happy? It's just... I haven't even been able to see him lately..."
Watching Vera open up like this, Clara was genuinely stunned. After all, whenever she so much as glanced away and mentioned Lyle's name, Vera would get all flustered.
(She really has fallen for him. Lyle being ridiculously capable doesn't help either.)
And then Clara's eyes fell on the box Vera was holding.
"A gun? I've been curious about them myself, but I don't have the knowledge to handle one, so I've been hesitant. I don't think Lyle has that kind of knowledge either... or does he?"
There were quite a few times Clara found herself wondering how he always seemed to know things no one expected him to.
She had seen him pull off feats that couldn't be explained by skill alone. If that was the case, then it wouldn't be surprising if he knew about guns too.
"Interested? If so... come to my room."
"Huh?"
Without waiting for a reply, Clara followed Vera to her room. Once inside, Vera rummaged through her belongings and pulled out several boxes, setting them on the table.
They were revolvers, smaller than the one Vera carried. She also handed over about three boxes of ammunition.
"You can have them."
"No, I really... I can't accept something this expensive."
When Clara protested, Vera simply smiled.
"Think of it as an investment. Our trading company is the one dealing in that gun's ammunition, after all. Besides, if a promising party ends up using them, that's practically a bargain."
Clara took the box, pulled out the gun, and held it up to get a feel for it.
"It's small, but it's a Mana Tool too. I can't tell you exactly what Skills it has, but the recoil is reduced. You can handle it one-handed. Oh, but don't ever point it at a person. And one more thing—"
Vera gave her a quick rundown of how to use it, then the two of them headed out to the sea to try firing it for real. The gun Clara received had less power than Vera's, but it was more than sufficient for self-defense.
And so, Clara spent the rest of the day learning gun handling from Vera until the sun went down—.
To the north of Banseim lies a nation with which they have been enemies for a very long time.
The country known as Cartaphus is one forged by harsh conditions. It has launched invasions southward toward the prosperous land of Banseim time and again.
Of course, Banseim had retaliated in kind, making them hostile nations.
However, recently Cartaphus hadn't been particularly active, and from Banseim's perspective, it was remembered simply as a country they had once fought against.
The Vela Trace arrived on schedule at the port town of that Cartaphus.
As I descended the gangway, the sailors waved to me from the ship above.
"Good luck out there, Laiel!"
"When you come back, bring us some stories, Laiel!"
"We're counting on you, Laiel!"
Every single one of them kept saying it—Laiel-san, Laiel-san—and even though I knew it was just my persecution complex talking, I still felt like clutching my head and rolling on the ground.
Standing on solid ground for the first time in a while, I still felt a slight sense of swaying.
"Well then, let's head to the Guild that posted the request, and after that we'll go take on the Land Dragon."
When I said that, everyone nodded in agreement—except Clara, who tugged at my sleeve.
"Laiel, could you go say goodbye to Vela for me? She's still by the gangway."
I glanced toward the gangway and spotted Vela standing there, having already disembarked. She held a parasol in one hand and a bundle of luggage in the other.
Carrying what looked like an expensive box, she averted her gaze from me.
"Me? I already took care of that earlier... but sure."
Following Clara's urging, I made my way over to Vela, and she handed me the expensive-looking box. It was fairly large, and when I took it, I felt its substantial weight.
"Um, excuse me?"
While I stood there confused—
"Take it. You gave me those Magic Stones, and just handing over payment felt too impersonal... A-and besides, I figured something like this would be okay."
"Really? Well, I did receive extra compensation too, so I really have no complaints on my end."
While I was looking at the box, Vera told me to "go ahead and open it."
I did as I was told and opened it, and inside was a black, expensive-looking gun. It was a revolver, and I felt like I'd seen that shape somewhere before.
"Is this the same as yours, Vera, just a different color?"
Vera turned to me.
"You can just call me Vera. And it's not exactly a different color—this one's made of a rare metal called gold. That one's a rare metal too, but... well, it's a spare. Fufu, nothing deep about it."
As I was admiring the gun, I heard the Seventh Generation's voice.
"A rare metal, you say... That means it's a durable Mana Tool with Skills engraved on it. It definitely wasn't cheap."
The Fifth Generation chimed in as well.
"It holds twelve rounds... How much does each bullet cost? This is definitely a rich person's weapon."
I thought so too, but since she was giving it to me, I decided to accept. Part of me had wanted to try one out, and keeping it around wouldn't be bad either.
"Thank you very much. Um... I'm really happy."
As I said that, Vera climbed up the gangway, hiding her face behind her parasol.
"Good. Well, do your best. We should be departing in three weeks, so make sure you're back here by then."
When I replied, Vera quickly disappeared into the ship.
"...Is she actually angry after all?"
The Fourth Generation responded to my concern.
"That was a failure on your part this time. Well, I can't say you weren't aiming for it, but it's fine either way. There are some big catches this time too."
Reflecting on how I'd managed to anger her after the growth event, I found myself looking forward to finding out how much the Trashey materials I'd obtained would sell for.
(It'd be nice if I got two or three thousand gold coins.)
With that thought, I headed toward my companions, and the Third Generation regarded me with exasperation.
"...Good grief, you're completely hopeless. The Fourth Generation is only good at sucking up to people, is that it?"
That was the sigh he let out.
We headed to the guild in Kartafos where we'd originally put in the Land Dragon subjugation request.
But what we were told there was—
"Y-You can't buy them!?"
"I-I'm terribly sorry."
The bespectacled male clerk apologized as I leaned forward over the counter. When I asked him why—
"Well... I do understand these are Trident Sea Serpent materials. However, at a guild of our scale, we don't handle materials from that caliber of Monster, and moreover, with something like a Trident Sea Serpent, we have no basis for determining what price to offer..."
Since they'd never dealt with such materials before, they had no idea what a fair buying price would be.
Miranda, who had come to the guild on the same errand as me, spoke to the clerk.
"What about the biggest guild in Kartafos? Would they buy them?"
The clerk answered apologetically.
"Any guild could buy them in principle. But there's no way to determine a fair price... On top of that, we don't know what these materials are suited for, or whether they can actually be processed into something usable. Most guilds would rather avoid the hassle, since both sides would end up dissatisfied. And Kartafos's guild policies aren't as flexible as elsewhere."
Stricter discipline than elsewhere was a hallmark of Kartafos. It seemed this policy was adopted across all the guilds in the country.
"If it were Magic Stones, we could offer five or ten thousand gold coins. But with raw materials, it all depends on future research. Plus, since these materials can't be obtained reliably, they're not something Kartafos necessarily needs... Ah, um! You're from Baim, right? Then taking them to Baim would be your best bet! Although, even then, I couldn't say how much they'd go for."
After all the trouble we'd gone through, the Trashey materials I was sure would sell for a fortune...
They were rare, sure, but we were told they were essentially useless because nobody knew how to use them.
(So this is what Vera meant when she kept insisting we double-check and said I should call the whole thing off.)
My spirits had been so high—was it because I couldn't bear to give up the crown? Either way, I'd rejected her proposal.
Just as securing funds in one shot was becoming increasingly difficult, the Third Generation spoke up.
"Well, this time we defeated Trashy, so our names should become well-known too, right? So it shouldn't be a problem. If we think of it as doing a favor for the Trace family, then the cost is worth it. Besides, Trashy wasn't part of the original plan anyway."
Looking back, the original plan had indeed been to defeat the Land Dragon and make a name for ourselves. Raising funds was supposed to come after that.
(Well, when you put it that way...)
I turned to the Guild staff member.
"In that case, we'll take the materials back to Baim. As for the Land Dragon..."
The male staff member looked relieved.
"You're the ones who defeated the Trident Sea Serpent, so we can entrust this to you with confidence. The location is here on the map."
The staff member produced a map and showed us the location.
Up to that point, they said they'd arrange a guide for us.
"A local adventurer?"
"Yes. Well... forgive me for saying this bluntly, but each place does have its own set of rules. Many in the Guild and among the adventurers would prefer that those unwritten rules not be broken, even by those who came to slay the target."
Miranda placed a hand on her chin.
"That's a fair point. Besides, having a guide would be better. Lyle, I think we should hire one. And they're trustworthy, I assume?"
Meeting Miranda's gaze, the male staff member nodded.
"He's an adventurer we rely on here as well. There's no question about his competence."
We were told that the guide would be called to the Guild by the next day, and so we returned to the inn to rest for the rest of that day.
That night.
I had been sleeping at the inn, but I found myself once again inside the Jewel.
Standing in front of my own room, I crossed my arms and debated whether I should go in or simply stay away from now on.
Behind me, the Successive Heads were discussing this latest commission.
The Third Generation recalled the conversation at the Guild.
"So you can't beat a Land Dragon, but you're still capable… I'd call that a mixed bag, personally."
The Fourth Generation, more than anything, was shocked by how cheap Trashy's materials were.
"It's a famous monster, isn't it? Why are the materials so cheap even after you take it down? Sure, you can't exactly disassemble it into a taxidermy mount, but it should still be worth something, right?"
The Seventh Generation, exasperated with the Fourth.
"As long as word gets out that Laiel defeated it, that's enough. It had that much value, at least. Well, once we're back in Baim we can sell it off without issue. But the Kartafus Guild is… how should I put it…"
The Fifth Generation picked up where the Seventh left off.
"It's got a stiff, rigid feel to it. You could argue that's a good thing, but this time it came across poorly. It's probably better than 'we'll buy it because it's rare,' though. You could also call them overly cautious."
The Third Generation didn't know much about Kartafus. After all, during the Third Generation's lifetime, it had been a country far, far away.
"More importantly, weren't Kartafus and Banseim at war? Did they fight to a draw? Are they still skirmishing, or something like that?"
It was the Seventh Generation who answered.
"They haven't been at war recently. Our territory is far from there, so we never sent reinforcements, and I imagine they're still doing minor skirmishes at most? Even during my lifetime, large-scale wars only happened twice."
Should I think of that as having happened twice, or as having only happened twice… Coming from someone born in Banseim, I felt it was better not to say either way.
Standing before the door.
I stepped closer and cracked it open just a little.
Peering through the narrow gap, I found a pair of blue eyes staring back at me—Ceres's eyes.
"Oh my, you're not coming in? What a coward!"
"GYAAAA!!"
I hurried to shut the door, but Ceres's hand slipped out and stopped it. Panicking, I tried to kick her hand away, but she pulled it back with a quiet giggle.
Panting, I finally managed to close the door, then backed away from it.
"What are you doing, Lyle? If you're that curious, why not just go in?"
The Seventh Generation said that to me, and the Fifth Generation chimed in too.
"You and the Fourth Generation are the only ones who haven't gone in."
I turned my gaze to the Fourth Generation, who was adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers, head bowed.
"…Everyone has their weaknesses, you know. I don't have the courage to face an angry bride."
I wondered just how terrified he must be, but then again, I'd been startled by Ceres and fled too.
"Wait, more importantly—why is Ceres in my memory room?"
The Third Generation crossed his arms, his expression turning slightly serious.
"Beats me. Well, something might develop eventually—so how about we focus on the next job for now?"
With his usual easygoing smile, the Third Generation said just that.
——Aramsass.
An Automaton in a tailcoat had prepared black tea and was offering it to its master.
Ceres, its master, accepted the cup, savored the fragrance, and took a sip.
"This is lovely. It tastes quite wonderful. Even though you despise me, watching you devote yourself body and soul—it's quite the spectacle."
Near Ceres, who was relaxing in the lavish room, a girl with hair that reached the floor sat dazedly on a sofa.
Her eyes were hidden behind her hair, her face revealing nothing but her nose and mouth.
The male Automaton with short red hair, in butler-like fashion—
"I take no joy in your praise. It's simply the expected result. Honestly, I could almost accept it if you were merely an unworthy master—but having to serve someone who harbors such feelings toward me like this... I curse my lot in life."
Hearing the Automaton say such things, Ceres let out a quiet giggle.
Then she surveyed the room.
There, the powerful scholars of the Academic City gazed at Ceres with undisguised awe.
"I like it. That scum having something I didn't was always irksome, but this is far more wonderful than the maid he had."
The Headmaster, beaming with delight, spoke up.
"Thank you very much. This Automaton was revived using the full resources of the Academy. Unlike the Maid type, it comes equipped with a vast array of functions right from the start — that's one of its defining features."
Ceres's Automaton.
His name was Bart, and he spoke with undisguised vexation.
"To be compared with a counterfeit created by a nation that can only imitate others is frankly insulting. To be measured against that defective piece of junk... it's quite disagreeable."
He was a tall, twenty-something butler — spine straight, his expression one of genuine annoyance.
Ceres, laughing, said:
"Then why don't you go destroy Laiel's Automaton? I wouldn't mind. Not that I have any idea where it is, of course."
Bart stared at the laughing Ceres with a blank expression.
"That won't be necessary. My purpose is to serve you. Regardless of how much disgust I harbor toward that."
Ceres drained her tea and, with an utterly unladylike gesture, grabbed a pastry and shoved it into her mouth.
The sweets Bart had made were delicious, and she puffed out her cheeks with a charming smile befitting her age as she chewed away.
Bart said:
"How terribly unladylike. There are crumbs on your mouth."
With that, he promptly and gently wiped her lips with a handkerchief. Whether he loathed it or despised the person before him, he would still serve with everything he had — that was what it meant to be an Automaton.
Ceres let out a small sigh.
"Delicious tea and pastries... Still, I really would have liked to meet Professor Damian. I never expected he'd flee into the Dungeon, of all things. Thanks to that, I ended up going down to the fiftieth floor and defeating the boss. And then I killed a Guild clerk too, because he rubbed me the wrong way."
Ceres stuck out her tongue in a cute little gesture.
However, even upon hearing that, the dignitaries of Aramsass were unfazed.
"So what, if it turns out the fiftieth floor has been reached underground?"
"As long as the Dungeon doesn't vanish, it's no problem at all. Besides, we have nothing but gratitude toward Lady Ceres for taking care of it."
"Still, Damian... He's to be permanently exiled from Aramsass."
Watching the cheerful dignitaries, the black-haired girl murmured softly.
"...He was laughing while killing dozens of people. Even though Lady Ceres wasn't even angry."
At those words, Ceres turned toward the black-haired girl.
"I'm not angry. But I didn't like his attitude. And it's important to punish those who waste my time. Well, it's not like Guild clerks are hard to replace."
To that, Bart replied.
"She massacred every single Guild clerk, and that's all the reaction we get... Honestly, why did I end up serving such an unpleasant master... A gravekeeper would have been considerably better, at this point."
Ceres's face split into a grin as she remembered how the clerks had cried and begged for mercy in the end.
"Now then, what shall I play with next?"
Amused in Aramsass, Ceres gently ran her fingers along the handle of the rapier in her hand, mulling over her next amusement.
There, a yellow Jewel gleamed brightly.