The Explorer's Guild Imperial Capital Zebuldia Branch sat about a fifteen-minute walk from the Clan headquarters, squeezed between a large shop and a tavern.
The building was a size smaller than its neighbors on either side, but in terms of sheer bustle, it gave neither an inch. A small flag bearing the Guild's symbol—a treasure chest on a red field—fluttered in the wind.
I glanced around, felt like I was about to vomit, and slipped through the entrance.
A wave of muggy heat hit me, and I furrowed my brow.
The inside of the building was a den of monsters.
There's a clear difference between Treasure Hunters and ordinary people. Not in age, gender, or equipment—you just sense it at a glance. If I had to put it into words, maybe you'd call it a difference in tier as living beings.
The Imperial Capital is the holy land of Treasure Hunters, but the absolute number still isn't that high. The Explorer's Guild—a hunters' lair you'd rarely stumble upon while walking the streets—could fairly be called one of the most hellish spots in the entire capital.
I straightened my spine and strode through the spacious lobby.
In the open, vaulted space, angry shouts, mocking jeers, and cheerful singing rang out without pause. It looked like a warzone.
Some people called the faint stench of blood, booze, sweat, and metal that clung to the air "the smell of adventure."
A Hunter who passed me—easily two sizes larger—glared down at me and moved on without a word.
Some Hunters really make you wonder if they're even the same species.
The Explorer's Guild—the Guild—was an organization that supported Hunters.
From the buying and selling of Treasure Weapons and Monster materials, to item restocking, intelligence brokering, and even Party member matchmaking, the Guild handled everything a Treasure Hunter could ever need, start to finish. It was a massive organization with roughly as much history as the profession of Treasure Hunter itself.
It was also the Guild that assigned Levels to Treasure Halls, Hunters, Parties, and Clans, and built the entire ranking system.
Anyone could enter a Treasure Hall, Hunter or not—though doing so was almost always a death sentence, so joining the Guild was half-mandatory if you wanted to become a Hunter.
Of course, membership wasn't free. You had to pay annual dues proportional to your income, and the Guild would occasionally saddle you with thankless jobs that weren't worth the trouble.
Once a Clan reached the scale of Footprints, they could more or less operate independently—and some Clans actually did—but I didn't want to attract too much hostility, and the dues were manageable, so I willingly accepted being the Guild's dog.
Also, the receptionist girls being idol-level cute was a major plus. An organization worth studying, in more ways than one.
I straightened my back and cut through the crowd of Hunters radiating the scent of blood and excitement, striding forward with my shoulders back.
Passing by Hunters with bandages wrapped around their limbs and old scars carved into their faces was absolutely terrifying, but I knew from experience that hanging your head was a surefire way to get accosted.
The weak get eaten. Why is it survival of the fittest in the middle of a damn city?
One of the Hunters had a newspaper spread open, and it caught my eye. Splashed across the front page was a photo of a half-destroyed tavern.
It wasn't from the Zebuldia Days, but it seemed other papers were running the same story.
It's not my fault. It's not my fault. There's plenty of other stuff to cover, you scum media!!
"Being famous really is a sad thing..."
Wearing a nihilistic smile on the surface while feeling like I was going to hurl, I got in line at one of the reception desks.
My desperate prayer to not be called up was ignored, and my turn came almost immediately.
"Thank you for visiting the Explorer's Guild today!"
The black-haired girl at the reception desk greeted me with a smile that could cleanse your soul.
Guild receptionists weren't Hunters. The staff running our Clan weren't Hunters either—and that was because I'd been envious of exactly this arrangement.
I struck a pose, slammed my hand on the counter, and put on the deepest, toughest voice I could manage.
After all, going hardboiled was the goal.
"I'm here to see Branch Chief Gaark. The arrangements have been made—take me to him."
The receptionist didn't flinch at my dramatic display and answered with a beaming smile.
"One moment~! You're here about the tavern you half-destroyed, right? You've got one scolding coming your way~ Mr. Krai, I keep telling you—you don't have to wait in line when you've been summoned, you know?"
It was half-destroyed, not completely destroyed.
§ "I'M SOOOOOOOOOORRYYYY FOR ALL THE TROUBLE I CAUSED!!!"
"S-Sorry!?"
Sincerity is what matters in an apology.
I'd put on a tough attitude in public, but that was all for show. When the other party was Gaark, I'd throw away my pride without a moment's hesitation. He'd already seen me at my most pathetic far too many times.
The moment I was led into the reception room and laid eyes on him, I dropped into a full prostration—and even the battle-hardened Branch Chief Gaark's eyes went wide, his cheeks twitching.
Gaark was human. He looked like a monster, but he was definitely human.
He stood over two meters tall. A diagonal old scar ran across his cheek, veins bulged on his bald head, his body was still honed to a degree you wouldn't expect from a retiree, and he had the face of a textbook villain—but he was human.
More importantly, he was someone of authority. He always carried a sword, but he was a civilian. For now.
Beside him, the sharp and beautiful Deputy Branch Chief Kaina stood frozen with her smile still plastered on her face—a textbook beauty and the beast scenario. Secretly, I thought the beast was the more docile of the two.
Thanks for everything, as always.
"K-Krai...?"
"I didn't do it on purpose! I never meant any harm! I was thinking about how to avoid causing trouble for civilians the whole time, and I got proper permission from the shop owner before destroying anything!!"
That was the truth. When things like this happened, I took painstaking care to minimize collateral damage.
The skills I'd developed as a leader were apology, groundwork, and bluffing. What a useless set!
I rattled off my excuses, out of breath.
"I mean, those guys were really causing problems for me too, right?! I tried to stop them but they wouldn't listen—so I might as well let them blow off steam somewhere spectacular! Seriously, how was I supposed to stop them?! I wanted to stop them! I really did! If you think you can do better, go ahead and try, you piece of crap!!"
I couldn't stop them, so I had no choice but to let them blow off steam somewhere that wouldn't inconvenience civilians. That was the truth of it.
Normally, it's better not to make excuses—but I made them meticulously. To win sympathy. Gaark couldn't really be that angry either, not deep down.
No civilians were harmed. No civilians were harmed. And most importantly, no civilians were harmed.
I jumped to my feet and pressed forward with more apologies, and Gaark took a step back as if overwhelmed by my momentum.
"Hey... don't try to steamroll me with sheer force."
"I mean, all I did was destroy a building!? A little decoration came loose but there were no casualties, no complaints filed, right!? It's fine, destroying a building is no big deal! Way better than destroying people! I'll pay compensation! I've known that owner for ages and he's a super nice guy—he'll forgive me with a smile!! I want ice cream."
The half-destroyed shop was a tavern, but it had the best ice cream. A genuine masterpiece—easily top three for ice cream in the Imperial Capital, and I should know, since I'd helped make it that way.
As I tried to convince him through my nausea, Kaina, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up with a strained smile.
"Now, now, calm down, Krai-kun. The Branch Chief doesn't need to be that harsh—no official complaint has been filed, after all."
Every time, Gaark's anger was defused by Kaina's "now, now." They probably had the roles worked out between them.
It was Gaark's job to unleash fury and intimidation, and Kaina's to find the compromise.
Sure enough, Gaark sighed at her words.
"I haven't even scolded him yet... Fine. Sit down."
Yes! Forgiven! It wasn't for nothing that I'd been apologizing left and right.
I obediently sank into the plush sofa. The nausea eased just slightly.
Then, the moment I let my guard down, Gaark slammed his fist on the table. The sudden bang made me flinch.
He bared his teeth and fixed me with a wild-eyed stare.
"Listen here, Krai. I didn't call you in because I wanted to."
If you didn't want to call me in, then don't call me in.
Leaving me there, Gaark continued in a lecturing tone.
"Even if there were no complaints—it became an incident big enough to make the papers. I can't just let you off easy. It wouldn't set the right precedent."
"..."
????
I should be forgiven. By the standards of the Guild I knew, this should have been an easy pass.
After all, there were no victims. Destruction of property was covered under Imperial law, but only if the affected party filed a complaint. With a settlement already reached and no victims coming forward, the Empire wouldn't lift a finger.
It made the papers, sure, but short-tempered Hunters were always causing some kind of ruckus. A tavern half-destroyed was actually on the mild side. Gaark, a professional at cleaning up messes, couldn't possibly not know this.
I glanced at Kaina, who gave me a wry smile. I got the hint immediately.
Fine, I'll let Ark take this one.
"Don't tell me... it's a penalty game?"
"..."
At my question, Gaark made a face like he'd bitten into a bitter bug.
The Guild's primary role was facilitating Treasure Hall raids, but as a side business, it also brokered external commissions.
Hunters were so unfathomably strong that merchants and nations alike sent job requests hoping to hire that muscle.
Escorts, Monster hunts, retrieving specific Treasure Weapons—the difficulty and type varied wildly, and those jobs served as pocket money for novice Hunters who couldn't tackle Treasure Halls properly, or as a way for Hunters to build connections with the outside world.
But some commissions went unclaimed—because the pay was too low, the commitment too long, the difficulty too steep, or the client was... problematic.
From my perspective, that was their own problem and none of my business, but the Guild had its own complicated politics, and they'd shuffle those rejected jobs onto Hunters who'd shown weakness or been involved in scandals.
We Hunters referred to these commissions with all due respect as "penalty games" and avoided them like the plague.
My choice of words made Gaark's eyelid twitch.
"Don't use that phrasing in front of me."
"You were a Hunter too, Gaark. Look, these things are a real problem. I've got my Clan members' lives on the line, you know?"
Clans came in all shapes and sizes, but ours was a democracy.
Even the Master was decided by majority vote. My authority wasn't all that impressive.
Seeing me adopt a higher posture and cross my legs with a smug air, Gaark's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
He sighed once, then spoke as if he were the one doing the lecturing now.
"No, no, I'm not saying you can't refuse entirely. I've been in your debt for years, Krai, and I understand your position. Go ahead and take one. But no matter what, you're only taking one. And honestly, you didn't do anything that bad this time."
"...Krai-kun, does your provocation skill go up every time we meet?"
When it was time to grovel, I groveled. When it was time to act high and mighty, I acted high and mighty. If you stayed scared all the time, you'd die. That was my survival technique.
Gaark ground his teeth at my inflated attitude and muttered in a low, threatening voice: "...Bring it on."
Kaina brought over a leather-bound file and placed it in front of me.
Guild commissions were essentially mandatory, but rumors said plenty of Hunters refused them without batting an eye.
Hunters had strong egos and hated being bound—especially veteran Hunters capable of handling these troublesome assignments.
Sure enough, there was a thick stack of "penalty games." I sympathized with the Guild for having accumulated so many thankless jobs, but we were running a business too. I couldn't take on more than one.
Gaark fixed me with a look that practically radiated killing intent and said: "...Choose."
"Yes, sir."
I flipped through the files casually.
Penalty games varied wildly. The commitment period, the job requirements, the compensation, or the background behind the commission—there were plenty of factors that made them a pain.
I'd pick the easiest-looking one and toss it to Ark.
I kept turning pages, and sure enough, living up to their reputation, most of the penalty games were tedious enough to make you not even want to think about them.
Ark and the others could handle any of them, but what Hunters excelled at was still Treasure Hall raids.
I narrowed the selection to those, and started by checking the Level of each target Treasure Hall.
Level 5. Level 6. Level 5. Level 5. Level 4. Level 6. Level 3. Level 7. Level 6— Oh, there was a Level 3 just now!
I flipped back. Checked the contents next... Yeah, this should be fine.
Penalty games were usually high difficulty, so finding a Level 3 was a lucky break.
Ark Rodan, holder of the title Silver Star Ten Thousand Thunders, had a certified Level of 7—among the highest even in this Imperial Capital.
A Hunter's certified Level served as a benchmark for which Treasure Halls they could clear.
A Level 3 Treasure Hall would be a cakewalk. The pay was low and the commitment period was on the long side—it was practically volunteer work—but it shouldn't pose any real obstacle to clearing.
I pulled the filed commission out of the folder and waved it in front of Gaark.
"All right, I've decided. Gaark, I'll take this easy one—'Bone Pickup.'"
"............Krai! Don't say such inauspicious things! It's not 'Bone Pickup'—it's 'Distressed Rescue.'"
...Huh? They're definitely not alive anyway.
§ § § It was like a storm had passed.
With Krai gone, Deputy Branch Chief Kaina let out a sigh of relief.
She tucked the urgent commission files under her arm and turned a wry smile toward Gaark.
"...As always, a storm of a person, wasn't he... Are you sure about this?"
"...It's fine. He's at his best when he's a little full of himself."
Gaark rubbed his forehead and answered gruffly.
Footprints was one of the most momentum-driven Clans in the Imperial Capital right now.
In sheer size, there were older, larger Clans—but compared to those that had stagnated, Footprints was still growing.
Making the papers was proof of just how much attention they commanded.
From Gaark's perspective, if anything, Krai—who had built such a massive Clan yet maintained almost the same attitude he'd had when he first became a Hunter—was a blessing beyond measure.
He could have cut ties with the Guild entirely. A Clan with that level of connections and clout had little reason to keep relying on the Explorer's Guild.
And indeed, no small number of promising Clans and Hunters had withdrawn from the Guild.
Krai had put on a flippant tone and a cocky attitude, but it was obvious that he was actually being considerate of the Guild.
"Besides, he said he'd take something easy, then grabbed the most dangerous commission in the pile."
"...That does sound like him..."
Kaina narrowed her eyes, recalling the scene—him pulling one out from among the twenty-plus files without a moment's hesitation.
The Treasure Hall difficulty was the lowest, sure, but that didn't necessarily correspond to the actual difficulty of the commission.
What a leader needed was the eye to assess danger. The commission documents had all the details spelled out.
Krai—who bore the weight of being the Clan Master of Footprints and the leader of the Mourning Specters—would not misjudge a commission's difficulty.
In truth, he had always tended to pick the most difficult commissions at times like these. Perhaps it was his way of repaying the Guild.
"Whether it turns out to be a demon or a snake... well, if Krai took it, it must be fine. His attitude aside—his instincts are sharp."
"One favor owed, then."