After a day of manual labor as usual, earning my evaluation, I headed back to the guild.
The result was marked as [B] on the slip.
Maybe it was the time of day, but the guild's second-floor reception was packed.
Even the Hawkins counter, which was usually empty, had a line forming. Looking closely, the lady who normally processed requests at lightning speed was nowhere to be seen.
At the reception, an unfamiliar staff member was fumbling through work they clearly weren't used to.
I listened in on the conversations around me.
"Did you hear? Apparently it's the third dungeon."
"If that's true, it's bad news. The lord's soldiers will be dispatched for a dungeon subjugation, right?"
"So that's why the guild is in a rush. They've been coming up more often lately."
From what the surrounding adventurers were saying, a new dungeon had apparently appeared.
A dungeon, if left alone, would grow larger and start spitting out monsters — it was essentially a monster nest.
At times, the troublesome monsters it spawned were problem enough, but if neglected for too long, it would release a horde of monsters and then vanish itself — a truly vexing existence.
There were towns that managed their dungeons, defeating monsters and reaping the rewards.
But such towns had the know-how to manage dungeons properly.
They partnered with adventurer guilds and kept things under careful supervision.
Normally, the common practice was to subjugate a dungeon as soon as it was discovered.
The guild and the lord would offer reward money, and subjugating one would also raise your evaluation as an adventurer.
Adventurers who subjugated dungeons were objects of admiration for children.
"They might recruit and head straight for the subjugation."
"I'm curious about the value of the treasure in the deepest chamber."
"As long as there's no fighting over it and killing each other."
The adventurers discussing these somewhat alarming topics were all smiling, though.
But in reality, this sort of thing was quite common.
In the innermost chamber, a guardian stood watch over the treasure. It was, one might say, the dungeon's core — the treasure it protected.
It was invariably gold or gemstones, though sometimes it took the form of metal.
But all of it either possessed or was cloaked in magical power generated by the dungeon itself — mysterious metals of extremely high rarity.
They were precious treasures used as materials for mana tools as well.
(If I sold it, that'd be a fortune. I'd heard that even with a dungeon that was easy to subjugate, you could sell the treasure and live lavishly for two to three years.)
As I was thinking this, the Second Generation spoke up from the Jewel.
"Back in the day, a dungeon was a place to train yourself and grow, you know. Now they just subjugate them in groups, huh?"
The Fifth Generation also emerged.
"Going solo or in a party is inefficient. Worst case, you'd get taken down inside the dungeon and absorbed, causing it to grow even further. Efficiency-wise, it's safer to subjugate the whole thing in one go with a group."
Hearing that, I filed it away as something to remember.
People's understanding of dungeons seemed to differ across eras.
What I'd been taught — or rather, what I'd learned from books — was that dungeons were both a source of valuable materials and an extremely dangerous existence.
The idea of them being a place for self-training had never crossed my mind.
"So the Fifth Generation was also defeating monsters, which means... the rules I left behind are still being followed?" the Second Generation said, and the Fifth Generation agreed.
"You were the one who established that, Second Generation? Well, it did turn out to be good experience — fighting people and monsters alike."
The two of them began reminiscing about how their first battles had been a struggle.
But what caught my interest was the word [Growth] that they kept using from time to time.
"The sensation varies from person to person, but... how should I put it — an awakening kind of feeling? The first time I really experienced that was definitely after I started fighting monsters. When I first felt that growth, I tended to overexert myself and made plenty of mistakes."
The Fifth Generation seemed to have had a similar experience to the Second Generation.
"I went through something similar myself. Though, it was right after I'd been elevated to viscount, so I fought fewer monsters than bandits. But even fighting humans, you do grow, you know..."
Something about their version of "growth" felt different from what I knew.
Was it not the same as physical growth or emotional maturation?
"You'll experience it once or twice before your early teens at the latest. There's always this... different kind of feeling. When I saw that, my family would look at me like 'he's grown' and it ticked me off."
The Second Generation's voice dropped lower, and the Fifth Generation chuckled.
"It's more of a sensory thing. Apparently, you might experience it only twice in your entire life, if at all."
Hearing that, the Second Generation was surprised.
"Only that few? I experienced it at least nine times. It felt like I was fighting every day. The first time was when I was about twelve."
"That's way too many."
I'd been listening to my ancestors' conversation, but I was starting to feel uneasy.
(...Um, I've never had that experience even once.)
As I was thinking this, Hawkins called out to me, sounding more cheerful than usual.
"Next please. Oh, it's Lyle, isn't it?"
"Ah, yes, please."
I handed my documents to Hawkins, who cheerfully went through the procedures with a smile.
Maybe being busier than usual was what made him happy.
After having lunch out, Novem and I decided to use our remaining funds to purchase equipment.
My equipment in particular needed replacing because my saber had been ruined during the fight with the bandit boss.
The skill effect that had enhanced my weapon had also destroyed my backup saber.
At the weapon shop that Zelphy had introduced us to, Novem and I looked at sabers.
"The selection is pretty limited compared to other shops," I said.
The shopkeeper shrugged. "Can't be helped."
The dwarf shopkeeper was a compact, muscular man with a large red nose and bushy eyebrows.
"Sabers just aren't popular in Darion. They have some appeal among the nobility, but around here, people are busy running off to subjugations and the like. When that's the case, sturdier swords are more popular than sabers. Some knights even say they'd rather have a spear, a blunt weapon, or an axe over a sword."
Hearing the shopkeeper's explanation, I looked around the shop, and sure enough, those other types of weapons made up the majority.
Naturally, shops would stock weapons suited to the local demand.
I'd been planning to buy a saber, but now I was seriously considering whether to switch to a different weapon.
"Where do you carry sabers? Anywhere around Darion is fine."
When Novem asked the shopkeeper, he stroked his chin and looked up.
"That kind of sword — I think the Central shops in the Royal Capital would have them... but shops that carry combat-oriented ones are probably rare. I know a guy who does business in the Central, but he specializes in armor."
Dwarves, known for their skill with metalwork, often found success running forges like this one.
That said, it wasn't necessarily true that only dwarves could be skilled smiths.
"I could look into it and order one, but it might be better if you went yourself and checked. If you do decide to go, I can write you a letter of introduction."
I thought about it for a moment.
The sabers lined up in the shop were all mass-produced pieces.
There was no end to what I could wish for. Since they were better quality than what I'd been using, I decided to buy two — including a spare.
(I've been using sabers all this time, so a little stubbornness about it is fair, right?)
The first weapon I'd ever received was a saber.
Both my mother and father had been looking forward to seeing me fight as a man of House Walt with a saber in hand... there had been a time like that.
"What are you going to do with the old one? It's in pretty rough shape, so if I buy it, it'd only be worth the scrap metal."
I handed the saber to the shopkeeper, told him that was fine, and paid.
"Still, it's in really rough shape."
The shopkeeper looked at the saber and commented, and I found myself saying, "Sorry about that."
After all, even if it was mass-produced, it was a product of his craft.
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just, I haven't seen a swordsman around here use one quite like this... For better or worse, this is a beginner-friendly town. There are only a handful of skilled fighters. Once you grow, you'll move on somewhere else in no time."
The shopkeeper handed me my change, and I accepted it.
I turned to Novem.
"You didn't need to replace anything?"
She smiled and shook her head.
"I can still use mine. Besides, I already purchased a knife. As for armor, Zelphy says I don't need anything beyond what I currently have."
"Yeah... that makes sense."
With weapons and armor alike, once you started looking upward, there was no end. But in our current situation, equipping ourselves with top-tier gear would be wasted.
Besides, fighting slimes while wearing metal armor just felt wrong.
A wooden shield and spear were more than enough to handle them.
I took my saber from the shopkeeper, and Novem and I left the store.
On the way home.
On a quiet street with few people passing by, I brought up something to Novem.
"Hey... so... about the money, I don't think it's enough to buy back all your household belongings, but... I want to return it to you."
I had sixty gold coins on hand.
It was money the lord had given us as support during the bandit subjugation.
Of course, most of it had been spent hiring people and gathering food and other supplies. What I had left was from selling off the bandits' plunder and treasures.
If I considered that I'd started with two hundred gold coins, we were clearly in the red.
Hearing my proposal, Novem — who had been worrying about what to cook tonight — put on a serious expression.
She shook her head and said she couldn't accept the money.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Lyle. But that money will be needed by you going forward. I can't accept it."
"But—"
"If you really insist... then how about this: whenever you become a first-rate adventurer, you can return it then."
I was unsure how to answer.
After all, I didn't really have a strong desire to succeed as an adventurer.
"O-okay... I promise that when that day comes, I'll buy back everything you had before, no — something even more extravagant. I promise."
Hearing that, Novem smiled slightly.
"I'll hold you to that."
Listening to this exchange, the First Generation spoke.
'...What a fine young man.'
After that, the rest of the ancestors spoke up in order, but I chose to ignore them.
'Lyle's inadequacies really stand out, huh.'
'Well, Lyle is already living the dream just having Novem around.'
'The women I knew were nothing like this.'
' You
spoiled
your
partner
too
much. Thanks to that, I've been stuck being called Mommy all this life.'
'Lyle, you must keep this promise. If you break it, you'll lose something truly important as a person.'
'House Foxes clearly did well raising their children. But House Walt...'
I let my ancestors' opinions wash over me as our home came into view.
That night.
I decided to use the Jewel's meeting room to ask about something that had been on my mind.
Once Novem and Aria had gone to sleep, I lay down and let my consciousness be drawn into the Jewel.
A round table stood at the center of the room, and the room itself was circular.
Behind the ornate chairs, doors leading to my ancestors' rooms were visible.
Space was dotted with objects similar to blue jewels of various sizes embedded throughout.
This was what we called the meeting room.
The Fourth Generation, serving as facilitator, asked why I'd called everyone together.
"Lyle proposed holding this meeting, but said there were a few things he wanted to ask about. So, what's on your mind?"
Wearing his glasses, the Fourth Generation adjusted them with his fingertip and looked at me, signaling me to state the topic.
So I—
"Well, there are several minor things, but first, something caught my interest today."
"What is it?"
Prompted by the Fourth Generation, I recalled the conversation between the Second Generation and Fifth Generation earlier and asked what had been bothering me.
"It's about... 'Growth.'"
The moment I said it, the assembled ancestors leaned forward with interest.
The First Generation cut me off and began speaking.
"That's right, growth! Lyle, how many times have you experienced it? You don't have much magic power, and your stamina is mediocre at best. Even if we're generous on other fronts, your physical — how should I put it—"
The First Generation turned to the nearby Second Generation, who clicked his tongue before answering.
"His physical specs are low. Based on his magical ability and swordsmanship, Lyle is the type who has to survive on technique."
Called a technique-type, I didn't see myself that way.
The Third Generation addressed me.
"When you used two sabers, I thought — Lyle's growth might be the type that specializes in technical skills. There are plenty of one-point enhancement types out there, after all."
The Sixth Generation nodded.
"There are indeed. Those types can achieve remarkable things by honing their strengths and excelling in a specialized field, so Lyle could—"
The conversation was heading toward what type I was, so I shouted.
"Listen to me! And also, what even is 'growth'? You keep saying things like 'sensation,' but I don't understand. How is it different from physical or mental growth?"
Hearing that, everyone's expressions went blank.
My grandfather, the Seventh Generation, grabbed both my shoulders to check.
"L-Lyle!"
"Yes?"
"You're fifteen, right? Your skills are still undeveloped, but they've manifested. So let me confirm — have you never felt growth? Waking up in the morning with a different sensation, your body feeling noticeably sharper... th-remember! That unique feeling, like you've been reborn!"
I tried to recall, but I'd never experienced anything like being reborn.
The First Generation also pressed me for confirmation.
"No, come on... normally, even just living your life, you get this... 'ting!' kind of feeling, right? My third or fourth time was like that."
Everyone was staring at me like they couldn't believe what they were hearing.
But I'd never had that experience.
"...No, I haven't."
The Seventh Generation's mouth was opening and closing wordlessly.
The Fifth Generation asked calmly.
"Lyle, I've heard you were mistreated starting at age ten, but to what level? You did receive an education, correct?"
I answered honestly.
"Yes. I read every book that was given to me."
My answer caused an uproar among everyone present.
"Wait, hold on a second!!"
"What... Lyle, you were in that state and still used magic?! And — you can use magic?! "
"How do we even judge this!?"
"There's no way... just handing someone books doesn't count as education, absolutely not..."
"We underestimated him. Everyone here — all of us — failed to grasp the situation. That includes Lyle himself."
"I had to experience growth at least twice before I could use magic at Lyle's level."
"...If only I could punch my own son."
Watching everyone's reactions, it seemed like I was in quite a bad situation.
All my ancestors took their seats and demanded that I explain everything that had happened so far, more precisely than before.
The Fourth Generation took charge once more.
"Lyle, tell us... How did you live from age ten onward?"
I told them everything I could remember.
That from around age ten, I'd basically been alone.
That meals were basically delivered to my room.
That I had virtually no conversations, and my tutor simply handed me books—
The moment those words left my mouth, I clutched my head.
"Wait... that's not normal, is it?"
Everyone nodded.
"Quite a bit not normal. If you'd been living normally until ten, you'd have noticed something, but..."
The Fifth Generation began thinking, and the First Generation spoke up.
"So it was the monster's doing after all? A monster that can alter the atmosphere and circumstances around it — is this what it does? But still, doesn't it seem strange that Lyle never experienced growth? Even living a normal life, you'd expect at least once or twice."
Once or twice.
That apparently was the expected number of times for someone who'd lived a life.
The Fourth Generation sighed and said.
"Lyle... I take back what I said about your magic being low. More importantly, there were other things you wanted to ask about, weren't there? Let's hear those first."
Hearing the Fourth Generation's words, I went ahead and spoke.
"Well... it's just that..."
The Second Generation was eyeing me warily.
He had a look on his face that said, "You're not going to say something outrageous again, are you?"
"S-So, what is it this time?"
I—
"What should I aim for from here on out?"
Every ancestor's expression turned to one of exasperation.