Even a fake blue sky feels great.
"Wof!"
"Are you all right? Pak...ira...!?"
I noticed. Pakira was hugging me.
She was clutching me tight, face-to-face.
Given the state she'd been in, it was only natural, but even through my robe I could clearly feel the soft press of her chest.
"Nn... boy... so bold..."
"Huh? What's up? Wait, Pakira's guy? A little kid?"
"How indecent! A man and a woman, hugging! And who are you supposed to be?"
Each of the three was surprised in their own way, and Pakira pulled away from me with tremendous force.
"Th-this—this is a mistake! It's not what it looks like!"
"Your tail was wrapped around my waist, you know."
"Nyah!? Th-that's—well, it's just—"
"...Mornin', boy."
"H-hey."
I gave a small bow in response to Riv's easygoing greeting.
I felt a sharp gaze. Lupinus. Scary.
A noble-looking elf beauty. She looked stunning in her armor.
She was glaring at me for some reason.
"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing? You. Child."
"Huh? Uh, well..."
"Mm... Lupinus... enemies... coming..."
"Ah man, more of 'em showing up again."
The puppets were gathering around.
Shuffling, shuffling — they must have heard the commotion.
"How inelegant."
*Ahem.* "Allow me to handle this."
And so Pakira stepped forward.
She gave her staff a light swing, then raised it overhead.
Pakira looked the part of a mage from appearance alone.
Well, in this world they were called "Elementaria."
This world had eight elemental attributes.
Fire, and you burned.
Water, and you suffocated.
Wind, and you were sliced apart.
Earth, and you were swept away and buried.
Green, and you were entangled and bound.
Lightning, and you were electrocuted.
Light, and you were purified and obliterated.
Submerge in darkness, and you'll be stained black and cursed.
In other words, those are the eight attributes: fire, water, wind, earth, green, thunder, light, and darkness.
It is said that no one possesses Relics of all eight attributes.
Countless small fireballs formed around Pakira's raised staff.
A fire Relic, huh? Still, there were so many of them, and tiny.
"Fire Strike!"
Pakira spun halfway and swung her staff.
The swarm of fireballs slammed into several puppets with tremendous force, bursting into flames.
"Amazing."
They burned well, since they were made of something like wood.
The way she launched so many small fireballs at once was like a shotgun.
Scatter-fire, or rather, scatter-fireballs.
"Well, that's about how it goes."
"Amazing."
"By the way, where is this? Why is Wof here?"
That question was honestly more mine to ask.
"We're in the deepest part of the dungeon."
"What did you say!?"
"Calm down, Lupinus. You don't mean the bottom of Hydrangea, right?"
"That's right. This is the deepest part of the dungeon I was investigating together with Thunder Fang."
"Doesn't look like the lowest floor, does it?"
Pakira gave a wry smile.
"Even so, this place is something else. Oh, hey there. I'm Biddo, from 'The Brave.' Rank IV, 16 years old. Single."
"Wof. I'm 13."
"13? Oh, so you're a hired hand?"
"Something like that."
"Nice to meet ya."
Biddo stuck out his hand, so I shook it.
"So, what do we do from here?"
"Yeah. Where should we go... right?"
"Hmm... where... I dunno..."
"Indeed."
"Um, there's a camp."
Hesitantly, I raised my hand and spoke up.
"Kid. Did you say camp?"
"Why don't we head there for now? Everyone else from Thunder Fang is there too."
"That's right."
"...What do we do? I'm for it."
"I agree."
"Hmm... we should go..."
"We have no leads right now, so going is our only option. The puppets are multiplying again. Look."
Puppets that were set ablaze would charge through, and new ones would take their place.
This was pointless unless we took down the puppet box that kept spitting them out.
"What a bother. Child, lead the way."
"Yes. This way."
I guided them along. There was no map, but I remembered the direction.
The dungeon monsters that attacked us along the way were swept aside by them without the slightest effort.
Impressive, as expected of the real deal.
Come to think of it, I wondered where Agaro and the others were.
The Great Temple. The Eastern Prayer Hall. The Hall of Fate.
Pure white, and once magnificent — or so I'd heard.
But now there was nothing left of it. Somehow, it felt sad.
And this temple. It had a strange feeling about it.
As if I'd returned home... My heart was a little restless.
Even so, a Great Temple that didn't even exist on the surface.
What on earth did it enshrine?
My purple eyes throbbed. They were shining with heat.
But between the fierce combat and the intense battles that followed, I was a bit worse for wear.
Can't be helped. That enormous land catfish had been something else.
I let out a sigh.
Ah, my favorite black-purple dress is completely wrecked. Man, I want a bath.
I really want a bath.
—Land catfish. One of my kind has caused you trouble.
Alexander bows his head in apology.
No way. I never expected to run into you here.
Apparently, he came looking for someone.
He says a monster appeared out of nowhere, so he rushed over out of concern.
Turns out it was a boy and a fairial girl. What a rare combination.
But he couldn't find them. As long as they're safe, I guess. He said he'd help with the search later too.
By the way, in his hand
a dagger
was somehow gripped.
Seriously, how is he even holding that?
—No. The giant land catfish. The one that caused the earthquake — it looks nothing like Alexander at all.
—Now that one sure was a real handful, wasn't it.
We're chatting away, but don't let that fool you.
I'm on guard the whole time. After all, there are two Fools right in front of me.
Each one wears a different mask and different clothes.
They look human, but they're dungeon monsters.
The one standing before Alexander — on the left, in gaudy red attire with a wrathful laughing mask — is Palyasso.
The one in front of me — the middle one, in plain blue attire with a crying-laughing mask — is Max.
Two against two. A standoff. Neither side is making a move.
That's why we can talk like this, but having to stay on guard the whole time is exhausting.
And even these guys are just the opening act.
Beyond The Fool, there's a gaudy, over-the-top throne.
Sitting on it like a king is a monster.
Black and white jester attire.
He wears a garish red-and-blue pointed hat like a crown, and a mask of ecstasy.
Crown.
The Fool. An undead, humanoid monster.
The anomaly in this dungeon.
A broken Dungeon Lord.
"What a pain. The way I see it, these two The Fools are plenty tough, but that Crown in the back — that one could just reach Gem rank."
"Is that true? Lord Alexander..."
Alexander nodded.
I'm fed up. This isn't a Class I job.
Above the upper end of Gold rank is Gem rank.
That's a Class II threat — the kind you need a group to handle.
That's... not worth the risk. A bump in the commission fee is guaranteed.
"Sorry, but I think we should run—!"
Pariasso moved. Alexander responded in the blink of an eye.
As expected of a former Class I. Still keeping up with the best of them. And most of all — so cute.
Speaking of cute, that Wof boy is also my type.
Glad I never made him my hireling.
If I'd dragged him into a fight like this, he would've been killed.
Max launched his attack on me.
"How unrefined. No girl's going to like that."
The battle had begun. The start of a fun, fun dance.
I activated my Relic — Sunspot.
Six black dots materialized in space, tracking Max.
Alexander's dazzling, crisscrossing sword flashes erupted.
They were neutralized by The Fool's and the others' juggling.
My Sunspot is Max's juggling ball. He's messing with me.
Alexander's incomprehensible sword flashes were Hansvurst's bouquet sword.
"Me? I don't like guys who are weirdly flighty."
"Naturally, dear. Hm?"
Alexander noticed something. I followed his gaze.
And then my deep violet eyes went wide.
"He's gone?!"
Crown — who just moments ago had been seated grandly on his throne — was nowhere to be seen.
"...What on earth..."
Deflecting Parriasso's burning sword, Lord Alexander murmured.
I used [Sand Spot] to absorb Max's right arm and wiped it out.
Crown. Where did he go.
The Grand Temple. The West Temple District. The rubble-choked passage.
Suddenly — no warning, not even the sound of footsteps.
He appeared before us.
A man in a costume like a black-and-white clown.
He wore an ostentatious red-and-blue jester's cap, his face painted with a wide, beaming grin.
There was no mistaking it. A clown.
A clown? Wait — that's The Fool!?
"Crown."
Someone said.