Mana Material enhances every ability a Hunter possesses. That includes not just pure physical ability, but also the five senses—sight, hearing, touch, and the rest—as well as resistance to poison and other toxins.
The reason the alcohol served at Hunter-oriented taverns has absurdly high proof is that ordinary booze simply doesn't get a Hunter drunk.
High-level Hunters are beings entirely different on the inside.
The members of the Mourning Specter were no exception. Over the past few years, it had been rare to see Liliz or Citry get wasted.
So what had gone wrong?
Liliz's face was flushed crimson as she gulped down a newly arrived Silver Ale—an ale boasting twice the alcohol content of Golden Ale, infamous for catching fire.
Citry looked cheerful on the surface as always, but her gaze was clearly unfocused.
The only ones keeping their composure were myself, who hadn't consumed a single drop of alcohol, and Tinno, who sat beside me huddled up to avoid being accosted by the two big sisters, silently emptying cup after cup.
Citry, in a rare display, was speaking in a slow, slurred drawl, latching onto me. Completely hammered.
"Klye... you don't... think of me as some kind of wallet that just spits out money whenever you want, do you...?"
"Mm-hmm, sure, that's right..."
"Sniffle... Big sis, did you hear that...? Klye is... treating me like his convenient little plaything..."
"Bronze Ale, a barrel of it. And bring everything on the menu from here to here. Two mugs. Cit, wallet."
"Sniffle..."
While fending off Citry with one hand as she clung to me in tearful theatrics, Liliz bellowed out a spectacularly imprecise additional order.
Our table had become a cauldron of chaos.
The powerful alcohol fumes were enough to make you feel drunk just sitting nearby without drinking, and plates were being emptied one after another.
The other Hunters who, just moments ago, had been shooting me jealous glances were now wide-eyed at the way Liliz and Citry put food away.
Great Hunters were great eaters. There were several Parties in the tavern, but our table was surely the rowdiest.
Bronze Ale was even stronger than Silver Ale. It was the kind of drink people joked was just regular ale with color and scent added to the alcohol.
A barrel fitted with a spout, large enough to require two arms to hold, was wheeled over on a cart. Liliz crunchingly gnawed through the bone of a meat drumstick, then washed it down by draining an entire mug of the reddish-brown liquid in one go.
The regulars at nearby tables buzzed with murmurs. This wasn't even at the level of "heavy drinker" anymore.
Liliz dabbed at her mouth with her sleeve, then rested her cheek against her hand with a blissful expression.
Her flushed profile, softened by the alcohol, looked far more sultry than usual.
"Mm... ahh... this feels soooo good... been a while since I've been drunk... Cit, good work. Refill."
"Big sis, your tolerance builds way too fast... That was supposed to be the good stuff. No matter how strong I brew, you build resistance right away... Maybe I should just stop making it..."
"Huh? That's literally your job. If you don't do it, who's gonna build up everyone's tolerance?"
"Sniffle... Klye... big sis is treating me like her convenient little plaything...!"
"!! Cit, hey— I told you not to touch Klye! No groping allowed... you're on thin ice! Tinno, guard that side!"
"...Yes, Big Sister."
"I lent you ten figures! You're paying me back with your body!"
I fended off Citry as she tried to circle around me. Liliz spread both arms wide to block her. She was swaying slightly but still had plenty of composure left.
An Alchemist who couldn't lose the Thief. I really wished she'd show off that defensive power when we were on guard duty. Even with a Barrier Ring, it was terrifying...
If it were a real sibling squabble, I would have intervened, but despite her little squeals, Citry looked like she was having fun.
Being good-natured was one of Citry's virtues.
"You two look like you're having fun... By the way, Citry, I forgot my wallet..."
"Mastaa... you're a monster..."
"Sniffle..."
If Anthem were here, he'd cover for me, but... well, no matter how much they ate and drank, the bill wouldn't be astronomical. With Liliz and Citry around, there was no need to put anything on a tab.
I'd pay them back later, surely...
The Mourning Specter had always been a give-and-take arrangement. There was very little I could offer, and among all of them, Citry was probably the one I inconvenienced the most.
As I was mentally prostrating myself, the tavern door suddenly burst open with a tremendous bang.
The din quieted slightly. Every gaze turned toward the entrance.
A group in matching travel garb filed in.
For a single Party, they were somewhat large—eight people, all men, all fully armed.
That all eight were big, intimidating-looking guys was typical for Hunters, but the way they arrogantly surveyed the tavern carried an air of outright hostility.
Tinno furrowed her brow and murmured in a low voice.
"Newcomers..."
Treasure Hunters of all caliber flocked to the Imperial Capital Zebuldia from everywhere. Veterans and newcomers alike, from home and abroad—the turnover among Hunters was relentless.
And for a Hunter, being seen as a pushover was a serious liability, so newly arrived Hunters tended to be on edge. Quite a few ended up clashing with the Hunters who were already based in the capital.
Some were the type to immediately go out of their way to pick fights with other Hunters just to establish a pecking order.
What made things most troublesome for me was that the vast majority of these types had never heard of the name "Thousand Transformations."
The epithet "Thousand Transformations" was famous enough that almost any Hunter based in the capital knew it, but the world was wide, and even if they had heard the name, they almost certainly wouldn't recognize my face—which is to say, I looked like easy prey and got accosted all the time.
The central figure was a large man.
In dirty yet remarkably sturdy gray half-plate armor over a dark brown cloak. Short, roughly cropped black hair and an unpleasant scowl.
He carried a greatsword on his back, much like young Gilbert had once done, but this man's build was on an entirely different scale, and the intimidation factor was incomparable.
He stood nearly two meters tall, with a correspondingly thick frame. Even compared to seasoned, well-built Hunters like Gaark, he held his own.
The biggest Hunter I personally knew was Anthem, hands down, but this man who had just walked in would rank in the top ten.
At minimum, he was no newcomer. The other members' expressions carried a world-weary polish. They were most likely Hunters who had made a name for themselves in another country.
The full armor probably meant they had come here before securing a base in the capital.
Citry looked the apparent leader over from head to toe and let out a passionate sigh.
"What a magnificently trained physique. His bearing is refined, too. A high-level Hunter, perhaps... ahh... how nice... how wonderful."
"What? Cit, that's your type? Your taste is garbage."
Liliz crossed her legs wide and scoffed. Tinno looked at Citry with surprise as well.
Citry paid no attention to their stares, gazing at the man with fervent eyes.
"You wouldn't understand, Big sis. For a male-type, the base physical strength is crucial... A high-level Hunter with high Mana Material absorption speed and capacity is the perfect match. Right, Klye? What do you think?"
She put me on the spot without warning.
Come to think of it... so Citry was into muscular guys? She was the quiet type, so I'd always assumed her taste in men leaned that way too, but apparently there were things even I didn't know about her.
Feeling a faint, indefinable pang of loneliness, I answered anyway.
"Mm-hmm, sure. Muscles are important, after all."
"Right?... As expected of Klye, you get it, unlike Big sis! Kirukilu was made by stitching things together, but his durability took a hit... I was thinking about getting another escort body. How nice—I wonder what his Level is..."
Something felt off about the conversation, like we were talking past each other.
Citry stared at the Hunter with the eyes of a lovestruck maiden.
She was indispensable to our Party, but if Citry ever wished to leave, I would support her in that.
Everyone has their own path. I had no right to stand in the way.
Someday, the members of the Mourning Specter would each walk their own separate roads.
"Hey, out of my way."
Still, I really thought she should stay away from that guy.
The newcomer group was already accosting other Hunters.
They approached a table and, without a word, slammed the head of a drinking Hunter face-first into it.
The sound of shattering plates. The atmosphere froze in an instant, and the tavern went momentarily silent.
The one who did the slamming was one of the followers. He wore an intimidating smirk, looking down at the other Hunters who hadn't registered the sudden assault.
"Wha— hey? What the hell do you want? There are other seats open, you know—!?"
Without any regard, the newcomers kicked the other members away from the table.
There was a numerical disadvantage. They were drunk. But above all, the newcomers were used to this sort of thing. The people at the table had their weapons nearby, but before they could reach them, they were kicked to the ground, surrounded, and beaten into a pulp.
How they still walked the streets openly was beyond me. This was straight-up criminal behavior.
But if they got caught at this level, it could spell real trouble for Liliz and Luke too. The world was truly going to pieces.
One of the followers bared his teeth and announced their identity in a shrill voice. His eyes were directed at everyone in the tavern.
"Listen up! We are—the Thunder Dragon of the Mist! We've come from the 'Mist Country'! And remember this! This man is the Hunter who reigned supreme in the 'Mist Country'—Arnold Hale, the Mighty Thunder Flash!"
At his introduction, Arnold said nothing. He kept his arms crossed.
The Mist Country... there was an ocean between here and there. They'd come from quite far away. If they were going to cross the ocean anyway, they could have gone somewhere else, but well, I had come from outside too, so I had no room to complain. Still, having troublesome Hunters increase in your adopted city was nothing to celebrate.
Liliz watched the follower's ridiculous display of intimidation with round eyes.
I sat back in my chair, snorting in exasperation.
If I had been the only one here, I would have settled the bill and walked out by now.
The follower gathered his strength and spoke smugly.
"Listen well, you imperial capital rookies. Arnold's Level is—7."
!?
Level 7...? That guy with the thoroughly thuggish followers was the same Level as Ark? The world was truly doomed.
In truth, the Explorer's Guild's Level evaluation criteria weren't uniform. Once you reached higher Levels, things were different, but the ease of leveling up varied from branch to branch.
Some branches evaluated only combat ability, while others placed weight on temperament. But even so, a man who pulverized other Hunters without provocation being Level 7 spoke to a truly abysmal decline in Hunter standards.
I'd have to tease Gaark about this later.
Liliz's eyes widened slightly at the announcement, and she tilted her head.
"Hmm... the Mist Country, huh... Never been there, Klye. If you went there, you'd probably hit Level 10, wouldn't you?"
"No, no... Levels 9 and 10 require a review panel where representatives from various branches gather..."
I didn't want to level up in the first place.
"Ah... if I crushed him, would I become Level 7 too?"
"A Level 7 base Kirukilu... I'd love to meet him. Hey, Klye, can I go? If they just arrived, they probably don't know anyone yet, and this might be—a chance?"
Liliz heaved a deep sigh while Citry fidgeted with excitement.
Nobody was worried about the beaten Hunter. I might as well worry on his behalf.
Level 7. Even by the standards of a minor nation, that was a rating worth being skeptical of. Bravery was a virtue for Hunters, but so was the composure to calmly assess the power gap between yourself and your opponent.
There were eight of them. Even if the Mighty Thunder Flash didn't possess power befitting his Level, they were fully armed. It was fair to say the odds were unfavorable.
Seeing that no one raised a voice of protest, Arnold snorted dismissively.
"Hmph. A tavern full of cowards... The capital isn't all that impressive after all. Hey—bring me drinks and women."
"You got it."
Follower A scanned the tavern.
Unfortunately, a Hunter-only tavern rarely had cute waitstaff. This establishment was no exception.
His narrowed eyes locked onto me, occupying a table with three girls in the back.
His lips twisted into a grin. Oh come on—were they seriously about to make a move on female Hunters from another Party?
Was that acceptable in the Mist Country? Was it some kind of war zone?
I couldn't afford to be taken lightly. No matter what, I'd fight back. At the very least, I'd resist, right?
Tinno would resist too, and Liliz would resist even more. As for Citry, well, that was hard to say.
Follower A approached with a slimy grin. But before he could open his mouth, Liliz stood up.
With rosy cheeks and a beaming smile, she spoke. Follower A's eyes went wide at the unexpected development.
"What? You want me to pour you a drink? Fine, I suppose..."
"B-Big sis, let me do it instead—"
"Sit down. I'm going to show you how it's done."
Liliz pressed a finger seductively to her lips and gave a wink. It was the expression she wore when she was up to mischief.
She showed a lot of skin. She didn't have many curves, but if you looked closely, she had some bust, and her exposed skin had a healthy sensuality. Her face was attractive too—and if you didn't know her true nature, she would seem utterly charming.
"Ah, big sis, that's not fair!"
"First come, first served!"
In front of follower A, who was looking down at me with an ugly grin, Liliz poured Bronze Ale from the barrel into a mug.
Follower A's nose twitched for a moment, and a wary expression crossed his face. He'd probably figured out from the smell that the contents were ultra-high-proof liquor.
But before he could speak, Liliz was already walking with the mug in hand.
Liliz approached Arnold's table with the mug in hand, never letting the smile leave her face.
The followers' eyes roamed over Liliz's skin—her stomach, her thighs, her chest—before finally settling on the rather conspicuous Origin of the Heavens, drawing frowns.
But for the most part, their faces wore leering smirks. They clearly didn't recognize her. Some of the surrounding Hunters had gone pale, but the newcomers didn't notice.
Only Arnold wore an expression of complete disinterest.
Maybe... he was more of a large-chested type.
"...Sit. Name?"
"You want a drink, right? I'm in a good mood, so I'll treat you. Liliz, at your service."
And Liliz answered not with words—but by inverting the mug she held over Arnold's head.
The copper-colored ale cascaded down over his face.
"What the—!!"
"I'll treat you to the mug too. It's amaaazing! It even works as a disinfectant! Two birds with one stone? A great invention!"
Before Arnold could even raise his voice, Liliz struck him on the head with the mug, sending alcohol splattering everywhere.
She followed through by swinging her leg high and delivering a sweeping kick, catching the not-yet-comprehending followers A, B, C, and D in the arc. The massive wooden table they'd been at went flying through the air.
The surrounding Hunters were struck dumb. Liliz cackled as she smashed the mug—now reduced to just the handle—against Arnold's head over and over.
Citry stood up, let out something between a shriek and a wail, and collapsed against me.
"Big sis... how could you...! I said I wanted him! She always takes everything I want... Klye, please keep an eye on big sis."
"Not a chance."
Screams and shouts echoed through the tavern. I stroked the head of poor Citry, who had wrapped her arms behind my neck and clung to me.
Tinno stared at Citry as though beholding a demon.
Was I going to get yelled at for this later? I should probably just settle the bill and leave.