Upper floors of the Clan. The executive office, where rank-and-file members were forbidden to enter.
After hearing me out, Eva fell silent for a while. Then her glasses glinted as she spoke.
"You're throwing them into the deep end."
"How rude."
There's a time and a place for honesty, even when what you're saying is true.
"...Isn't it too early to have Tinno, who's been working essentially Solo, lead a Party?"
"I'm doing this for her own sake, you know."
I said it with a serious expression, and Eva sighed and fell quiet again.
But her words hit the mark.
I'm a Clan Master and a Party Leader. But when it comes to making decisions, I'll be honest — I mostly wing it.
In the beginning, there were days I'd agonize over things so seriously I couldn't sleep. But eventually, I got tired of it.
Even back when I was just leading a single Party, I was the one making decisions for the whole group. After I founded the Clan, those opportunities only multiplied. Once our reputation grew, I started getting asked for judgment calls by outside Parties and Clans alike. Sometimes even the Association would come asking for my opinion.
There was no way I could take all of that seriously. I can't shoulder the responsibility for every last thing, and honestly, founding a Clan was never about that in the first place.
The only decisions that still seriously weigh on me are the ones made during a Mourning Specter run.
It'll be fine. Tinno is strong. Her speed in particular has her Master's seal of approval.
Even if something truly terrible happens, as long as she can run, she'll manage. And if she can't — well, then there's nothing to be done, and you can only blame Tinno.
For a Hunter, death is self-inflicted. Accidents are an expected part of the job, which is why Hunters must always be fully prepared.
If the team selection turns out badly and someone has a rough time, that's Tinno's fault for not complaining more to me about it.
Nobody's going to take responsibility for your mistakes. Just like I gave up on conquering Treasure Halls early on, sometimes you need to push back against what everyone around you is saying.
I want Tinno to go through a bitter experience and come out the other side with initiative rather than just doing what she's told.
My haphazard, thrown-together tactics are, in a sense, a loving discipline for Tinno's future.
That's the end of that discussion.
I lean back in the plush chair and stretch.
"Ugh… I just want to throw all my problems away and go to a hot spring…"
"...How about we just take the whole Clan on a trip?"
"...Nice. Let's round up every single staff member and go."
Eva had originally been scouted from a major trading house where she'd worked tirelessly. She now serves as my deputy.
The flexible ideas she occasionally comes up with are probably a remnant of her merchant background.
Outside the Imperial Capital, wild Monsters roamed, and sometimes Stray Phantoms from Treasure Halls would spill out into the open.
It was dangerous, but on our side we had a veritable army of freaks of nature. If I threw out some vague talk about "building team cohesion," everyone would probably tag along readily enough.
The real problem was that if every last Clan member left the Capital at once, the Association or some Imperial noble bastard would probably have complaints. Also, the muscleheads would almost certainly cause trouble at the destination. Traveling with just a single Party might actually be the limit of what I could manage.
No, wait — my own Party members were far more likely to cause problems than anyone else.
I'm stuck. I feel like puking.
I flip through the documents Eva and the others had gathered.
It was information about Gregg and the others.
The Beginning Footprint maintained a library of资料 on Hunters and Treasure Halls. For newcomers it wasn't much, but for Hunters with a certain level of achievement, the information was compiled in detail.
Luda was… impressive. For a Solo, her momentum was unstoppable. Avoiding major damage and staying alive spoke to both talent and sheer luck.
Gregg was… a veteran. The number of Hunters who could sustain their career stably over many years wasn't that high.
Young Gilbert was… a troublemaker, sure, but he wasn't just all talk. He'd come from the countryside and been active in a Party, but after falling out with the group, he'd left on his own.
Well, that sort of thing was common among Hunters. One wrong move and we could've ended up the same way. Honestly, I might have preferred it.
Looking at them overall — they were unremarkable. Everyone who aimed for the Imperial Capital, the holy land of Hunters, carried a certain degree of confidence in their own abilities, large or small.
But I knew what real monsters looked like.
The true monsters who carved their way through high-difficulty Treasure Halls with wit and power, never stopping to consider their own safety.
But it was enough. A Treasure Hall that Tinno alone could handle — with four people, clearing it would be easy.
I didn't trust my own eye for talent at all. But I did trust the strength of my own Clan members.
"Still, I wonder if Tinno and the others will be all right… Even though it's a Level 3 Treasure Hall, the fact that the Association sent a request…"
"It'll be fine, it'll be fine. If things get really dangerous, she'll go find our members and ask for help. Tinno's no child."
Even though Eva wasn't a Hunter herself, having been there since the Clan's founding, Tinno probably looked like a kid to her.
I shrugged at my worrywart deputy. That was when the door burst open without so much as a knock.
"Mastaaaaa! Please help me! I can't do this after all!"
"...Aren't you giving up a little too fast, Tinno?"
Tinno burst in, her eyes scanning me and Eva standing beside me. Then she tackled me in a hug, grinding her head against my stomach.
That was definitely an act. The tension in her voice didn't match her words. What a scheming kid.
Given the timing since I'd sent her off, she couldn't have even gone to the Treasure Hall yet.
And besides — this area was off-limits.
Eva stared at Tinno with a look of utter exasperation. See? I told you there was nothing to worry about.
She really had absorbed her Master's worst influences.
§ "What's the problem?"
"Everything, Mastaa. It's too much for me…"
In the Lounge, the members I'd personally selected had gathered.
Luda Lunder, Gregg, and young Gilbert.
My reasons for choosing them were mostly random. I picked Luda because she'd said she wanted to go to the White Wolf's Den, but the other two were pure impulse.
Luda, Gregg, and young Gilbert — whatever their personalities, their abilities were mid-tier at least.
I hadn't thought about roles or anything like that. My real thinking was simply that more bodies meant an easier clear.
The goal was rescue, so depending on the situation, we might not even need to go all the way to the back. As long as the Party's internal conflicts were managed, they should be able to survive. Sorry about that, but with a Party like this…
Luda was looking around the Lounge with restless, darting eyes. Gregg and young Gilbert also seemed a bit tense, as expected.
The headquarters of a Clan they didn't belong to. To them, it was essentially enemy territory.
As Tinno led me over, Luda spotted me and her expression relaxed with visible relief.
Come to think of it, a huge commotion had broken out midway, and we'd ended up parting without even exchanging greetings. I felt a tiny bit guilty.
"Ah, Krai—"
"You're late. You made us wait forever!"
Gilbert's voice cut over the one Luda was raising. Luda glowered at the boy.
He was still insufferably arrogant, but perhaps because of where we were, both his voice and his words were slightly more restrained than before.
Still, he'd gotten Tinno to punch him into submission, and yet here he was — gutsy, I'll give him that.
Gregg looked at me and twisted his lips into a grin. But his face was a little tight.
I'd gone ahead and marked their threat levels as E across the board. With Tinno by my side, I could afford to be bold.
"G-g-gahah… Being here at the Beginning Footprint's headquarters… so you really are a member of the Mourning Specter…"
"I was really surprised yesterday. You kept saying you'd been to recruit, so I assumed—"
Standing in line had been a completely thoughtless decision on my part.
Because once a line had formed, there was no way to push through it. My own fault for oversleeping.
Seeing that Luda and the others were chatting cheerfully, Gilbert turned a rude gaze toward me.
"...Someone who looks as weak as you is a member of the 'Mourning Specter'? I heard it was the strongest Party in the Capital, but the rumors don't seem to match…"
"...We're not the strongest in the Capital or anything. Who's spreading rumors like that…"
I didn't even need to think. Probably my childhood friends. They were all egomaniacs.
We were top-tier among the younger generation, sure, but there was Ark, and the historic Capital was home to plenty of veteran powerhouse Parties. Even being generous, we were far from the strongest.
Tinno wrapped her arm tightly around mine. Even modestly speaking, the soft pressure against my bicep was unmistakable. Probably deliberate. Her Master's bad influence was showing.
Too much bad influence.
"These people are insolent. I cannot go to a Treasure Hall with someone who shows such insufficient respect for Mastaa. Mastaa is Mastaa, after all."
"Yeah, sure. I have no idea what you're saying, but sure."
I nodded with a smile. But honestly, it didn't matter to me.
Whether I was the Master or just a member, I was neither more nor less than who I was.
But for Gregg, those words seemed to be a shock. The expression that had been steady and unflinching completely crumpled, and his thick lips trembled as he spoke.
He was turning pale. Totally pale.
"W-wait… Mastaa? You mean… Mas… ter? Of the Beginning Footprint?"
"Well… I know it's presumptuous, but yes, Gregg."
It was genuinely presumptuous. The fact that I had to be the one to tell Gregg this was deeply uncomfortable.
"...Don't tell me… you're… 'Thousand Transformations'…?"
"If you understood how amazing Mastaa is, you'd be on your knees."
Tinno, still clinging to my arm, fixed Gregg with a cold stare.
Yeah. Let's stop with the intimidation. I'm going to be sick.
§ A master strategist whose methods no one could see through.
Famous Treasure Hunters were given epithets.
That was how the Association created a kind of celebrity culture among Hunters.
The 'Mourning Specter' had been a Party whose members each specialized in different areas. I had no defined role at all.
What I did was swallow my pride and bow my head to everyone and anyone, doing my best to keep the peace and minimize collateral damage around me.
'Thousand Transformations' was an epithet granted out of charity to me, the leader of that elite young Party, the 'Mourning Specter.' Something like — there's a whole team of monsters, and then there's this guy. What does he even do all day?
That was probably what was going through the minds of the Association bigwigs who came up with the epithet.
But our record as a Party was impeccable, and what I'd actually done (barf my guts out while running for my life) was known only to the members of the 'Mourning Specter' who'd adventured alongside me.
And so, for reasons I still didn't fully understand, I was given an epithet on the basis that I was famous enough to warrant one.
The 'Mourning Specter' was an impressive Party led by a Hunter called 'Thousand Transformations' who nobody could quite figure out.
The epithet, dripping with irony, had taken on a life of its own over time. As the 'Mourning Specter' grew more powerful, the name 'Thousand Transformations' gained an air of being the strongest despite no one ever having seen him fight. And I was relatively content with that sandcastle of a reputation.
Pretty hard-boiled, right?
I wanted to deny it, but if people looked down on me, I'd get attacked on the street. So that wasn't really an option.
I feel like puking.
But — well — an overpowered name did come in handy, that was undeniable.
Gregg's complexion was still deathly pale. You didn't survive as long as he had by being careless. He stared at me with blank eyes, then spoke in a trembling voice.
"Impossible… I heard you were young, but — too young."
"Yeah, well, none of that matters. The reason I asked you here today is… I was hoping you could help Tinno with the job I gave her."
It was a sudden request, but they'd come all the way here — it wasn't like there was zero chance of interest.
Say it like that, and they'd at least try to cooperate.
Luda had originally been aiming to conquer the White Wolf's Den. Gregg knew a thing or two about being a Hunter, whatever else. His personality — the type who never went against someone stronger — actually meshed really well with mine. I'd love to drink with him.
And the last problem one — he was baring his teeth right at me.
"You… the so-called strongest in the Capital, 'Thousand Transformations,' are you!? You've gotta be kidding! You don't look trained at all!"
"No, 'strongest' is just a rumor—"
Is there, though?
Who keeps spreading these ridiculous rumors? I'm the one who takes the heat every single time.
Before I could finish, Tinno pushed past me and stepped forward.
"How pathetic that you don't understand Mastaa's strength. You're missing out on ninety percent of life."
"Yeah, I have no idea what you're saying, but how about you quiet down?"
"Mastaa, I really can't team up with this guy. I hate empty talkers the most."
Empty talker — that applies to me perfectly, too…
Gilbert's claim that I wasn't trained wasn't wrong, either. Because I genuinely wasn't.
If Gilbert and I fought under the same conditions, I'd lose flat on my face.
Gregg held back Gilbert, who looked ready to lunge at any second.
"You fool — at least size up your opponent before you pick a fight! He's — beyond a hero, the youngest Hunter ever certified at Level 8!"
"Let go of me, old man! Damn it, I refuse to accept it!"
Gilbert looked like he'd bite my hand off if I extended it.
Incredible tenacity. If I were in his shoes and found a Level 8 Hunter, I'd prostrate myself on the spot.
His fighting spirit and his short temper were both on par with a top-tier Hunter's.
I turned toward Luda.
"Luda, won't you help out?"
"That's… something I'd actually be glad to request myself… but is the Level 8 thing real?"
Under her skeptical gaze, I let her in on the secret. Level certification wasn't an absolute indicator of strength.
The Association's Hunter level assessments were made from multiple perspectives.
"The number just went up, is all. When you become a Party Leader or a Clan Master, part of your members' achievements gets added to your evaluation. Beginning Footprint is a big Clan, so the massive achievement points needed for level certification accumulate fast."
"Mastaa, of course I contribute my points as well!"
Luda's expression hovered somewhere between understanding and skepticism.
This wasn't cheating, not at all. The Association actively promoted the development of the next generation, and in practice, all high-level Hunters served as Party Leaders, Clan Masters, or Masters of some kind.
Otherwise, there was no way I'd have a higher level than Ark, who was out there conquering Treasure Halls on the front lines.
Having overheard my words, Gilbert pressed in even louder.
"See!? He just gamed the system! You expect me to believe someone like you is a top-rank Hunter!?"
I acknowledged his tenacity, but I was starting to get annoyed.
I sighed and spoke to the red-faced Gilbert.
"No, Level 8 isn't even the highest rank… and besides, you don't have to believe me. Really."
Being looked down on was nothing new. I knew I didn't look impressive, and compared to the monsters who belonged to Beginning Footprint, I really wasn't strong at all.
The reason I sat in this chair wasn't my own choice — it was because nobody else wanted the job, and I was stuck with it.
One person more or less wouldn't make a difference.
"I'll pass on Gilbert. Gregg, will you help?"
"...Eh?"
"O-oh…? W-well, of course… that would be fine…"
I'd been the one to call them here, so I wasn't about to force the unwilling Gilbert. I wasn't going to bow my head and beg, either.
Setting aside the pride issue, this was the Clan's Lounge.
Nobody needed to see their own Clan Master bowing his head. Why should I sacrifice the trust of my Clan members just to add one piece of trash to the roster?
If Gilbert had been some Ark-level veteran, it'd be a different story. But he was a Level 4 frontliner.
Level 4 frontliners were a dime a dozen in our member pool.
"H-hey, are you serious!? I won't help, you know!"
"Yeah, that's a real shame. Oh well. Tinno, go grab someone from our members and head out."
It was still daytime, but if I went to the tavern next to the Association, there'd be a few around.
Tinno gazed up at me with a pleading look, having gotten exactly what she wanted.
"Mastaa, please come with me…"
"No. Way."
What was I supposed to do there? Calling it a Level 3 Treasure Hall sounded easy enough, but there was still a real risk of death.
Even though I'd given a clear answer, Tinno kept staring at me with glistening eyes.
She'd acted spoiled before, plenty of times. I'd been happy to play the cool big brother role, but this time she was going a bit overboard.
I was trying to pry her off my head when Gilbert, having been ignored, shouted.
"Let's fight!"
"What?"
What was this guy talking about? Even Tinno, whose head I was gripping, blinked in confusion and looked at Gilbert.
Unable to endure the silence, the boy shouted again. His outstretched finger pointed right at my chin.
"A fight. Thousand Transformations! If I lose… I'll join your team."
"...Huh?"
What was this clown saying? The words almost slipped out before I caught them.
Even I was wide-eyed at the sheer audacity of being looked down on like this.
Tinno's words aside, this kid had no sense of his own standing.
Granted, in a head-on fight I couldn't guarantee the outcome, but even so — I was a Hunter certified at Level 8.
In this particular case it didn't apply since I was total garbage, but normally, the gap between a Level 8 and a Level 4 Hunter was vast. Even Ark at Level 7 would consider Gilbert nothing but dust.
And finally — why on earth would I, the one who'd been running from every fight my entire life, this Thousand Transformations, go out of my way to accept some gamble of a duel just to add one nobody to a Party?
If you want to fight me, why don't you go beat every single member of the 'Beginning Footprint' first, and then come talk?
Even Gregg seemed unable to muster a retort at the sheer recklessness.
Gilbert pressed on. His right hand closed around the hilt of the greatsword propped beside him. His movements were practiced — like a formal declaration of war.
"I will never follow anyone weaker than me!!"
"...Then your opponent isn't me. It's Tinno, right?"
"...Eh?"
Since Tinno was going to be the Party Leader, after all.
"Mastaa is truly skilled at deflecting. But very well. On behalf of Mastaa, I, Tinno Shade, shall deliver divine retribution for this unforgivable insolence."
Tinno released her grip on me and fixed Gilbert, who was standing there with a dumbfounded expression, with a glare brimming with battle intent.