The Dungeon is the perfect place for a Psycho (Cyberpunk/Danmachi) - Seat_Admiral (2024)

An Adam Smasher into Danmachi Isekai Story

It had been one week since a meatf*cker got lucky, spouting off bullsh*t about the Cheerleader while they did their best to hide behind bodies and ripped themselves apart with speedware. One week since that pastel-piece of sh*t shotgun had been pressed into his malfunctioning optics and a trigger pulled. One week since that frame had been taken out of commission, a useless measure on the meatf*cker's end, because his biopod was in his torso. The head had optics and some subprocessors, nothing vital.

It had been one week since he woke up here. In what was clearly some jackass' sh*tty VR anime sim. Old fashioned stone and metal. Barely anything worth a damn. sh*tty food. sh*tty plumbing. sh*tty meat people. sh*tty everything.

His military-grade mechanical framegone.

Replaced withf*cking meat.

Plugged into some sim of middle-ages fantasy horsesh*t for sh*ts and giggles. Adam had long decided that he was going to have fun murdering whoever put him here, cut some meat really nice and slow. Until then, he had to deal with the sim and all its annoyingmeatproblems that he had long since gotten rid of by upgrading.

Hunger, check. Thirst, check. Sleep, check. Non-metal skin, check. Weakass muscles, check. Fragile bones, check. A single visual spectrum of vision, check. A limited set of auditory sensors, check. No additional sensors, check. No utility chrome at all? f*cking Check.

He wasn't even a grown meatbag. Those f*ckers had clearly calibrated this for the full f*cking weeaboo experience, because he looked like he did back in his teens.

It was like he was on the streets again, with his bloodboys in Yankee Stadium. Save of course that he was alone, he had nothing on his back, and no f*cking guns. Because of course this fantasy-ass middle ages bullsh*t setting wouldn't have any f*cking guns. Make his job so much f*cking harder.

There were some familiar things though, running around in backalleys looking for scraps, keeping an eye out for suspicious f*ckers.

And of course, murdering for his daily bread.

The meatf*cker he was currently strangling to death was putting up a good fight. Fella had fancy clothing, one of those long black cloaks, and had decided to swagger into the part of the city Adam had long since identified as 'the worst part of town', whatever it's f*cking name was.

He had two fat sacks of clinking coins on his belt, which was strange because the money here was paper first and then coin, which meant the dumbass just wanted to show off and really deserved to get murdered and robbed. So really Adam was doing him a favor, teaching him a lesson like this.

The fancy bastard kicked and tried to scream a bunch, and was way stronger than his skinny-ass frame would indicate, but Adam made sure to eat good and exercise a lot growing up, because he was a good six and a half feet and about two hundred or so pounds at this point. He'd get bigger over the next few years, but not by much.

The marines did him good, turning a big ol' boy into a big ol' man. Arasaka was better, turning that man into a killing machine. He was stuck just being a big and mean teenager in this sim, which while infuriating, was something he could work with.

Most meatbags weren't even as strong as he was back in those days, it was honestly f*cking pathetic.

The kicks and jerks began to die down as his victim slowly lost bloodflow to the brain, taking way longer than it should have, probably sh*t programming. The meatbag began to shut down as its brain lost the vital fluids coming from a beating heart. Or something like that, he never studied biology.

Honestly it was just a stupid weakness anyways, f*cker should've had armor on if he had all this coin.

Finally stilled, Adam twisted the head by the chin and skull until it snapped. Then he twisted it the other way until he heard another good snap and the spine beneath meat was severed completely. Then, dragging the body back behind yet another layer of rock and rubble, he began to pilfer it.

First, the bags of coins, tossed into his satchel. Then the fancy looking sword on the belt, straight to his own belt. Then the tunic, pulled off skinny and pulled over his head. It was too tight for him, but it was better than no shirt, which is what he had before. Then the f*ckers cloak, just for good measure.

Finally, he dragged the corpse over to the nearest sewer hole, and shoved it in the stagnant water below. Whatever lived down there could handle it, he didn't care. Middle-ages type settings usually hand some sort of guards, but those f*ckers never came down around the really awful places like here, so he'd get away scot-free unless someone recognized the cloak.

Even then, he'd just say he took it from other f*ckers in the area. It's not like they had a damn shred of proof, unless their programming was f*cked.

The more important thing now was to…

His stomach growled, loudly.

He almost snarled at that, f*cking meat, he fed you yesterday. His stomach growled again, and Adam almost wished he hadn't dumped the corpse so he could mutilate it. Clenching his fist and grinding his teeth, he forced himself to calm by inhaling and exhaling slowly.

First things first, he was going to eat. Not any dumpster sh*t though, he was sick of that. He had money, he was going to wander down the street until he found something cheap, filling, and hopefully fried.

Walking out of the alley, new sword on waist and barefooted, Adam made his way down the street with a sharp nose out for something that smelled decent.

—

Eventually, his nose led him to a slightly nicer part of town. Some sort of market street full of vendors peddling things he didn't recognize, as well as things he did recognize. Loaves of bread, fruits, vegetables, mostly raw ingredients and the occasional jar of spices. He didn't have any way to cook any of this sh*t though, so he kept moving along until his nose picked up the scent of something familiar.

Fried potatoes filled his nostrils, and he had a target.

Following that scent past other vendors and more meatbags, he eventually spotted his target. Behind a stall that advertised itself in that same bizarre blocky lettering native to sh*tty fantasy sims was a tiny woman with fat tit* and an apron. More importantly than any of her actual features though, was the fact that she was selling what looked like actual honest to god fried potato hashbrowns.

Weird f*cking choice for a middle ages sim, but Adam was hardly complaining. You couldn't go wrong with a fried potato.

He stomped his way over, moving to stand behind the blond meatbag buying one for herself and waiting. He glared at nothing, bored out of his mind, as the two exchanged cash and food.

After awhile, the blond girl finally got out of his f*cking way, and Adam stepped forwards. The tiny woman gave a stupid-looking customer service grin as she spoke. "Hallo! Would you like a Jagamarukun? Only 40 valis!"

He didn't know what the f*ck a valis was. He putted out both bags he had taken from the fancy f*cker and dropped it on the counter. "All that I can get with that." He rumbled out. His stomach followed suit, grumbling in turn. She blinked at that, customer service smile dropping slightly as she nodded and poured the money out on the counter. Presumably to count it.

Golden coins fell out of the bag and she flinched back in shock. Gulping at the bags she looked up at him again then back down. Licking her lips, she eventually replied.

"I… I don't have enough Jagamarukun for all this." She admitted, staring at the abundance of coins.

Adam sighed audibly and rolled his eyes. "Then I'll buy your whole stock, just take out what it costs."

Perking up, likely in excitement, the little woman nodded and grinned up at him. "Can do! Please watch me count to make sure I don't steal from you!"

"Sounds annoying, no." Adam grunted out, moving over to the bench next to the stall and waiting for her to start giving him the setting-inappropriate fast food to fill his stomach with. The little f*ckmeat squeaked in panic as she started putting the money back into the back, counting out some coin with rapid mutterings, and handing him the thing he just bought.

He chomped down immediately.

It was softer than a proper hashbrown, bizarrely easy to chew through on the inside, but that didn't matter. It was fried and breaded and warm. It was also the first cooked thing he had eaten in about a week now, so it was more than enough for him. Thinking about it, it might be the first cooked thing he had eaten in a few decades. His borgframes just use nutrient bags most of these days.

Junk food was still junk food. He devoured them as they were handed over, munching with fearsome tenacity as he blankly stared at the building across the street. If the f*ckmeat tried to steal from him, he'd just kill her, simple as.

"My biggest customer yet! Take that Loki! You don't have anyone buyingyourJagamarukun!" The tiny woman cackled to herself as she rubbed two of his coins together, flipping a sign over on the front of the stand, likely an indication that she was closed for the day. Pulling up more prepared hashbrowns from below and behind the stall, she began to set them out for him, one tray of the things after another.

There were probably a few hundred here, which didn't matter too much because fried potatoes didn't go bad for a good week. That was something he learned back in his street-stomping days. "Can't wait to tell Hephaestus and Bell about this! I just sold out!" The f*ckmeat continued to ramble, and much to his displeasure she turned to him and tried out small talk.

"S-so! How'd you hear about the great goddess Hestia's Jagamarukun stand?" She asked with a boastful air.

"No idea who that is." Adam grunted out in reply, chomping through another hashbrown. "That you? You call yourself a goddess?" Real high opinion of herself there, it was pretty annoying.

She deflated in an instant next to him, sadly handing another hashbrown. "O-oh… I-I suppose my familia is pretty small, true. B-but Bell is the best you know?! Say what you want about me, but I won't tolerate any bad talk about my first familia member!"

Adam chomped through the hashbrown, pondering that for a moment.

"The f*ck is a familia?" He grunted out in reply, glancing over and raising a brow at the tiny woman in streetwear. Isn't that what Italian gangers call their gangs?

No wait, that was the Mafia. Probably. He watched Godfather once with the f*cking cat back in the day.

The woman, for her part, looked baffled. "A familia? D-do you not know what a familia is?"

"I asked, didn't I? No I don't know what the f*ck that is." Dumbass. Adam showed much restraint by not insulting her like he should be. Bad idea to insult the ones giving free information to you. Instead, he resisted the urge to call her meat and leave, he wasn't done eating yet.

"I- oh jeez…" The woman reached up to rub her forehead. He reached down and grabbed another hashbrown, munching on it while looking at the tiny girl with the fat tit* and waiting for her to stop being melodramatic.

"Okay! So you know what the Gods are, right? And the Dungeon?" She asked.

Adam grunted in affirmation, things that don't exist and a place you find skeletons in. She flinched at that for some reason, before proceeding with her explanation. "So Gods aren't allowed to use our Arcanium while we're in the Lower World, so to help mortals fight monsters, we grant our blessings to bolster their strength. Often, each god blesses and maintains the blessing on a group of mortals, this group is known as a Familia. Are you following?"

Adam stared blankly for a moment. So fantasy middle ages land had monsters and magic powers, got it. That was about to be expected of a sh*tty sim like this. He nodded and chomped down on another potato.

"So in exchange for the blessing, the members of the familia work on behalf of their God. Often this is delving into the Dungeon and slaying monsters, b-but it can be other things too!" Tiny Big-Boobs babbled, waving her hands back and forth briefly.

"Like! My friend Miach has a potion-making Familia, and Hephaetus has a smithing-focused Familia! It can be anything that the God wants!"

Adam grunted. "Right, so corpos with superpowers, got it. You mentioned killing monsters, that pay well?"

"Corpos..? Y-yes, in fact its probably one of the most profitable things you can do… Even if it is dangerous…" She trailed off with a worried look.

"You mentioned a Familia, you're a god right?" Adam rumbled.

"Yep! Hestia! Goddess of the Hearth and Home, pleased to meet you!" She chirped, before getting sheepish. "A-ah, my familia is only one member strong right now though…"

A cunning look grew in her eyes, she thinks she's being smooth. "Say… Would you like to join my Familia?"

Adam chomped down on another potato, swallowing before replying. "Sure. Name's Adam Smasher. Where do I sign and…"

"YES!" She exclaimed, bouncing in place and pumping her fists. "Two in two days! I'm on a roll!"

Finishing his hashbrown off, he continued. "...When do I kill things?"

For some reason, that statement caused a slightly worried look to appear on the f*ckmeat's face.

—

"This where you live huh?" Adam grunted out, arms full of hashbrowns and staring at the building before him. A church of some kind, with broken out windows, a heavily damaged doorway, moss crawling up the stonework, and hedges overgrown nearby.

"S-sorry! I know It's a little bit of a fixer-upper right now. We're working on it!" Tinytit* apologized profusely as she stood next to him.

"...I've lived in worse." Adam shrugged and moved forwards, pushing open the door with his shoulder and seeing that the interior was slightly more homely, but still not great. A bit more roomy, with much of the more broken furniture pushed to the side and covered in a sheet for the moment. There was a small smoldering hearth at one end, and stairs leading up to a second floor.

Yeah, far worse. This place didn't have any roaches as far as he could tell. The Rotten Apple was worse in about every way. All kinds of old memories were coming back to him, living on the streets again. It was pretty nostalgic in its own way.

And now, one week in, he was moving up in the world. Killing monsters shouldn't be anything harder than anything he's already killed before, and that list was long indeed.

"I'm sleeping in front of the fireplace." He declared, claiming his spot as soon as he could. That would be the warmest place in the building, and this sh*t-ass meat frame of his needed its creature comforts.

"A-are you sure? We can try-"

"Fireplace. Mine." He declared again, turning a firm look to Tinytit*. She put her hands on her hips and huffed, before nodding.

He was victorious again.

"Alright, now sit down and take your shirt off." She commanded, pointing a finger down authoritatively.

He stared at her for a moment, raising a brow. She stared at him back, before her brows furrowed. "What?"

"This a proposition f*ckmeat?" Adam grunted out with a raised brow. "You need to work on your game."

Her face went scarlet, leaning back and aggressively waving her hands in front of her as if to ward him off.

"N-NO! NO IT ISN'T! IT'S NOT!" She continued sputtering for some time. Adam took the opportunity to set his trays of hashbrowns down, remove his upper garments, and start munching on yet another fried potato.

He was mostly done with one by the time she calmed down enough to actually look in his direction again. "I-I need to see your back to apply my blessing. I-It's not a p-proposition, okay! My heart isn't ready for things like that!"

"Clearly." Adam grunted, chomping through the potato. "I mentioned sex and you panicked like rats seeing headlights." He probably shouldn't insult his promised employer, so he restrained the rest of his thoughts on the matter.

"Tch. You're looking down on me." She grumbled, face still red.

"Yep." He replied. It was pretty annoying, to be frank. It was just f*cking, girl, not that big of a deal.

"My second child is a mean one…" She grumbled and glared, walking over to kneel behind his back. "Now stop moving and let me focus." Adam was confident the girl just wanted him to stop making fun of her.

…

"So how's this Falna thing work?" Adam asked, bored out of his mind and chewing on the rest of this hashbrown. Idly wondering how this particular sim was handling their superpowers. Usually they just used RPG stats, because they were lazy f*cks and that was easy.

"Hm? Oh it's a bit hard to explain." Tinytit* replied as her hands went across his back in some sort of pattern. "It's… think of it as a… like a vine-frame. It's a framework that helps you to grow taller than you'd be able to do alone."

The f*ck was a vine-frame? He understood the second part at least. "So it helps me get stronger huh? Like stats and abilities or something?" He guessed, figuring where this was going.

"Y-yes! You've heard of a Falna then?"

How f*cking typical. "Something like it, at least." He wanted to roll his eyes, chewing on a cold potato. He supposed he wasn't expecting anything, so working with this was easy enough. "I have to gain XP by killing monsters to Level Up, right?" He knew how games worked. He watched the f*cking Cat do that one some monster-taming game way back in the day.

"It's pronounced Excelia." She absentmindedly corrected.

Adam resisted the urge to give a long and drawn-out sigh. f*cking nerds and their sh*tty BDs. Couldn't they have at least put him in something original? Or fun? This 'realistic' fantasy sh*t was boring him.

She hummed in consideration. He wasn't looking at her face, so he didn't know why and frankly he didn't care all that much. "Done yet?"

"Yes, let me copy it so you can read what it says." Read? Was there a thing on his back now?

"I can't read your sh*tty language." He corrected, causing her to pause. "Just read it out for me."

After a moment, she began. "Level 1. Strength, Endurance, Dexterity, Agility, and Magic are all at 0."

What the f*ck were those stats? Why were Dexterity and Agility different stats? That's retarded.

"Why are they at 0?" He grumbled out, interrupting her. He wasn't a f*cking 0 in jack sh*t.

"The Falna only records what comes after it is applied, it doesn't measure what comes before." She explained. He grunted in reply, understanding and waiting for her to continue. "You have a Skill already, which I was told was rare but apparently not. They might've just been messing with me." Tinytit* grumbled out.

"What is it?" He grumbled in reply.

"...Paradisus Sub Sole Rubro. All it says is 'Unusual interaction with Charm effects'. I don't know what it does."

He hummed through a mouthful of potato. She continued. "I'm going to hide your Falna now, it's important to keep it a secret, otherwise other gods might try something. Okay?"

He hummed in affirmation. Corporate secrets, got it.

She hummed in turn, before finally pulling back and declaring. "All done! You can put your shirt back on. Now we just have to wait for Bell to come back and get you registered with the Guild. Then you can start exploring the Dungeon… if you want that is."

Making money from murder is what he's good at Tinytit*, stop the bellyaching. "When is he coming back?"

"He got back in the evening yesterday, so he should be back soon enough."

Adam looked around the church. Grunting, he got up and left his shirt off. "You have water here? I need a wash. It ain't great."

"I noticed your stink, yeah." Tinytit* grumbled at him. He grumbled back. "We have a well out back." She replied, and he began to move in that direction.

"Wait, Adam." Tinytit* spoke. Grunting, he turned to face her.

A brilliant smile greeted him. Warm, and looking genuinely happy at him. How foreign, how quaint. "Welcome to the Familia!"

He stared for a moment longer, before puffing through his nose. "Yeah, yeah." Corporate feel-good stuff, he was familiar with it. Credit where it's due, this BD had its rendering down pat.

Now if only he was killing things. He's too old to bother with all this touchy-nonsense.

Oh, there's the well.

…How does one use a well?

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

“I’m back!”
“Welcome back!”

The chant of meat greeting meat echoed in the building behind him. So that means his lone ‘teammate’ was back and getting caught up to speed. Adam used the term teammate loosely, because it had been years since he’s had backup worth a damn. Usually it was just faster to go in alone, because halfmeats were dogsh*t in a scrap. Not as dogsh*t as allmeats, but still a long way away from the best.

That is to say, him.

He tuned out the rest of their no-doubt boring discussion and returned to his current focus. Furiously scrubbing his meat clean with cold water, and growing progressively more irritated that he didn’t have a power-washer handy for this. His real body was easy to maintain, just send it to the techies and occasionally get a full spray-down treatment to get the gore off. This meat frame was a pain in his ass, and naturally produced all kinds of filth just by existing.

Simulated filth, sure, but still something he was going to murder. By scrubbing.

Dipping his hands in the water once more, splashing his torso, then furiously rubbing to dislodge any built-up muck. Then another splash of water followed by using their bar of soap to get it actually clean. Then, once dislodged and cleaned, a gentle rinse to remove the loosen filth and wash it away.

If he left it alone it would be a problem the next time he got injured. Meat was delicate, and weak to things like ‘infection’. f*cking meat. Why did anyone use this sh*t anymore?

Finished with his body, he started scrubbing his feet and hands. Work your way from the top down, to ensure the best and most consistent clean. It was around this point that the door to the church behind him opened up, and a call from Tinytit* came from it. “Adam! Are you decent?”

Decent at what? The answer was yes regardless, there wasn’t a thing he was bad at. He grunted out in a non-committal manner and focused on washing his feet instead. “Bell’s back, so come in when you’re done okay?”

“Towel.” He instead rumbled back. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a command.

“Oh! Bell, where's our towel?” One towel? That’s disgusting, Tinytit*. Adam made a note to buy towels as the first thing.

“I got it!” The unfamiliar meat-voice called out, with shuffling and movement towards the back door.

He would know exactly where if he was in his real body. Abundant sensors letting him know where everything was for fifty meters around him, even through thinner walls. Right now, he was limited to one visual class and angle, deaf audios, deadened olfactories, and numb tactiles.

It was like being blind, but for every sense. It was hard to express how much loathing currently filled him. He couldn’t wait to have acceptable targets again. He was long overdue another good manslaughter incident, and it would feel great to have gore on his frame again.

He needed something to calm down. He was getting twitches from how little he could sense about the world around him.

f*cking meat.

The door opened again, and footsteps followed. “Hey, Adam, right? I’m going to leave the towel hanging here for you okay?”

Would you just do it already, meat? He was bound to see it once he was done. What a pointless sentence. Adam grunted out again, and the door was closed, putting him in the cool dim shadows of the alley behind a church once more. Scrubbing cold into his body, only his anger kept his fingers from going numb.

Wrath was good for that, keeping the meat nice and toasty.

Finally finished with his scrubbing, he raised the rest of the water and poured it over his head in one great wave. His meat wanted to shiver, but Adam wasn’t about to let it. Finally cleaned to his satisfaction, he moved over to grab the towel they had left. A plain white cloth, probably big enough to wrap completely around Tinytit*, but barely large enough to get around his torso.

Good enough. He dried himself with quick and efficient patting, before putting his discarded clothing back on, and rubbing at his short blond hair while he walked back in the door.

Looking through locks that were currently getting in his eyes, he spied his new employer talking to what he guessed was his deadweight.

Well… he wouldn’t weigh too much. A skinny kid that was maybe about five foot five. Adam was solidly more than a foot taller, even in his old meat.

Hearing him come in, Tinytit* bounced up and waved her hands to present him. “Look Bell! He bought all my Jagamarukun and then joined on the spot!”

The infrequent but glaring use of Japanese was beginning to irk him. Choose one language or another, don’t just use it randomly like this. The kid stood up and shot a hand out in excitement. “Heya! Nice to get another member so soon! I’m Bell!”

Adam stared at their enthusiasm for a moment, before grunting in reply and shaking the hand. It wasn’t worth getting worked up over a contract. “Adam Smasher.” Briefly, he missed the intimidating electronic growl of his real body. He returned and held the towel up.

The ‘goddess’ took it, immediately bouncing over to hang it near the fireplace to dry. Adam lowered himself into a cross-legged sitting position and immediately began to chomp down on his rightfully purchased hashbrowns again.

“Heh, not much of a talker huh?” Deadweight asked with a polite and mildly amused grin, reaching up to rub the back of his head as he sat back down in turn.

“Oh he’s a talker alright!” Tinytit* growled out good-naturedly. “He’s crass and vulgar, so you need to be a good example Bell-kun, alright?”

Adam’s eye twitched at the sudden suffix usage. Doing his best to murder the hashbrown with his teeth to distract him from the inconsistency that was starting to bother him immensely.

“Can do! You can count on me, my goddess!” Deadweight gave a faux salute towards Tinytit* before turning back to him. “Granted, I only have one day of experience, but I’ll do my best alright!”

Adam turned a baleful eye towards the kid, and considered him for a moment.

“How long have you been killing, kid?” He rumbled out a question and chomped down on another hashbrown.

“W-well, my gramps taught me how to fight, but I only entered the Dungeon yesterday…” The look was sheepish in ways that were just utterly foreign to Adam. “I managed to take down probably twenty goblins though, so I’m doing pretty good for my first day I think!”

Twenty… Adam had a kill count of twenty before he was fourteen. That was decades ago. These days his kill count was more like a six-digit number.

“So you came from outside the city right? I suppose you might have some experience fighting too?” Deadweight asked curiously, munching his own hashbrown.

Adam thought about the answer for a moment. “...Contract Mercenary, at least fif-” He considered how old he currently looked, and amended the statement. “-at least five years now.”

“Wha-”
“Five years!”

Twin calls from the two meats in the room. He stared blankly as they looked at him with astonishment. Deadweight had a slightly awed look. Tinytit* had furrowed brows and a worried gleam.

Deadweight leaned back and sighed with a dismayed smile. “I thought I was going to be the senpai-” Adam’s hand twitched violently. “-but it turns out our new member has way more experience huh? I’ll do my best to keep up then.”

Adam grunted, that was about the best that he could hope for from meat, he supposed. Good work deadweight, you were being upgraded to ‘burden’. You had the right kind of attitude already. He tuned out the rest of the small talk. He already had his fill for talking to meat for the day.

—

Before actually getting to the murder, there was apparently registration to do. Most of it was the same corporate slop he had stopped needing to fill out years ago, so it was a familiar and infuriating activity to go through it again.

As it turns out, they provided the form in various languages, only one of which he knew how to read. f*cking Japanese was apparently a thing here, unaltered modern lingo at that. It was possibly the stupidest sh*t he had ever seen, but it was also fairly convenient for him at the moment.

Yes he signs the waiver so the Guild isn’t responsible for his injury, maiming, or death. Yes he fills out the document with his name, estimated age, personal details, familia, level, etc. No he doesn’t want to take out a loan for ‘starter equipment’. No he doesn’t want a personal assistant. Yes he would like the first-floors starter pamphlet. Yes he wants to open an account and make a deposit. No he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

At least the secretaries were easy on the eyes, nice and classical. That wasn’t true for most places, what with all the ugly-ass cosmetics meatbags get these days. Yes, shiny golden skin with no hair is definitely attractive and not hideous. Get the f*ck out of his field of view meatbag.

These meatbags restrained themselves to things like pointy ears, funky eyes, and big tit*. More than acceptable. Except the f*cking cat-ears. Ugliest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.

Finally, all of that settled, he walked to the gate to see Burden excitedly talking to another one of the Guild secretaries. This one had the pointy ears and glasses on.

…Were glasses a thing in the middle ages? Adam had no idea.

“Ah! Adam! Got all the papers done? This is my guild advisor Tulle-san!” Burden excitedly chirped out.

Adam grunted. Turning an eye over to the meat for a moment. She smiled politely and bowed at the waist, speaking in greeting. “Pleased to meet you. I hope your own advisor has been thorough in helping you prepare for the first floors.”

“Don’t need one.” Adam grunted in reply. The pointy-eared meat had an eye twitch at that.

“A-ah, They have lots of helpful tips though, are you sure?”

He knew more about murder than anyone in this city. Adam grumbled an affirmation. “Hmm-hm.” Turning his gaze to the suddenly worried looking Burden, he grumbled out a question. “Ready kid?”

“I-uhh… yeah, sure!” Burden eventually got out, exchanging glances with his advisor and beginning to whisper back and forth as he walked on ahead. After reaching the doorway down, he turned and called out loudly and in the most annoyed manner he could muster up.

“Oi! Kid! Talk to your girlfriend later, we have meat to butcher!”

That lit a fire under their asses.

“S-She’s not my girlfriend!”
“H-He’s not my boyfriend!”

Real convincing stuff. Adam grunted as he stared, standing silently and slightly hunched at the gateway before Burden finally apologized to the girl and ran to catch up. Adam turned and started to walk down the long spiral staircase as he approached, and soon the two of them were moving downwards.

“Gah, do you have to shout that kinda stuff? Someone might get the wrong idea.” Burden complained to him.

“It worked to get you moving.” Adam rumbled in reply. Burden reached up to scratch at his head.

“...Yeah I guess it did. Still, don’t want to inconvenience Tulle-san-” Adam’s brow twitched. “With rumors like that, so please don’t do it anymore.”

Adam didn’t bother replying. He’d do it again if the kid didn’t get moving. It was already proven to be effective.

“So the first level is where I went yesterday, and it has Goblins and Kobolds. Goblins are pretty fast, and they like to lunge. I didn’t fight any Kobolds, so I don’t know what they’re like yet.” Burden spoke aloud, apparently trying to help fill in the gaps of his knowledge.

Adam didn’t need any information. It was the first level in a sh*tty BD, it was going to be a cakewalk. However, being freely offered information while moving cost him nothing, so he took it in without complaint.

Information was Ammunition.

Speaking of. “You have guns here kid?”

“Guns?” The kid replied with a confused look on his face, answering his question. Adam growled in frustration, and asked another question.

“What about crossbows?” They have those in all these fantasy sims, right?

“Oh yeah I know what those are!” Burden chirped again. “A little expensive though, and you can only carry so many bolts down into a dungeon, so it’s recommended just to use a hand-weapon and magic most of the time.” Looking sheepish, Burden raised a hand. “Or so Tulle-san told me. I’m not sure myself.”

What kind of idiot doesn’t bring a ranged weapon just because you have limited shots? It was a ranged weapon, something like that is mandatory for any serious murderer.

Note to self, buy one as soon as possible. Right after proper armor, his skin wasn’t good enough.

Eventually, they reached the first room at the bottom of the long spiral staircase, and looked to the entrance. Looking at the doorway and walls beyond, Adam questioned who exactly was keeping these torches in the hallways lit, before dismissing it as unimportant. The real question was who cared.

“Right! Ready to go?” Burden asked, a wide smile on his face.

Adam grunted, and walked barefoot into the dungeon in front of him.

—

There was honestly nothing in the world more satisfying than watching meat die in various ways. Adam never really got tired of it. Flesh torn apart in a spraying arc of gore and splendid viscera, painting both himself and his surroundings in new hot red. It wasn’t a job or a hobby for him anymore.

His stolen blade raced forwards in a brutal chopping arc, ignoring the crude clawing fists that the greenskinned children tried to swing at him. His reach was far more than theirs, and his nifty stolen sword hacked off thin limbs with each cleave. Had he been in his actual body, that swing would’ve torn a good three of them in half. In this meat frame, he could only manage one and a half.

No, for Adam, slaughter was a lifestyle.

His fist rocketed forwards instinctively, his musclestensedandshakingin exactly the right way, his body turning in great force-building rotations and smashing knuckles into a hook-nosed face and collapsing it inwards. The force bruised his knuckles, so he made a note to get gauntlets as his first bit of armor. Now off-balance, his midsection was open to one of their number, who attempted to leap at him.

God, it was good to get back in action.

He carried therotationof his punch into a spinning kick,tensedheel smashing against the neck of the green midget trying to attack him and sending it spinning away until it crashed bodily into another goblin. The audible snap as his heel connected told him that the neck was most certainly broken.

He exhaled loudly, slowly pulling his leg down from where it had smashed into the midget’s neck and standing on it once more. Another bruise there, they had decently tough skin.

A wide, satisfied smile was one his face as he looked at the carnage left in his wake. Seven dead goblins, and one awestruck kid.

“Woah! What was that punch and kick you did?” Burden excitedly asked as he began to cut into their tiny goblin chests with his knife. Ah, right, ‘cores’ or whatever. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were good at this!”

Adam knelt down, and began to carve open the goblins as well. It was kinda like a repo job. Go in, kill the target, harvest stolen Arasaka chrome, extract. Well, sometimes it was rival corp chrome or military leaks, but the point was the same.

Rip open the corpse, pull out the bit.

The hot gore covering his hands was just delightful. He loved this job already, and he’s barely started.

“Can you show me how you did that?” Burden chirped. Adam hummed out questioning, causing him to continue. “You know? That punch into the spinny kick you did?”

“It’s called Panzerfaust.” Adam idly explained, working on ripping open a ribcage. “You have to be a borg to learn it.”

“...what’s a borg?”

Adam paused. Then he slowly pulled his hands out of the goblin’s corpse and stared at them. Red, gore covered, meat hands. His non-borg, flesh and blood hands. Standing up again, hetensedandshookhis arms in just the right way again, lashing down at the goblin’s corpse.

It burst like he was punching thin ice, shattering inwards and gushing with yet more gore, a tiny bluish gemstone left in the wake of his blow. His face and upper torso was sprayed in yet more viscera.

…Huh, this sim wasn’t exactly accurate, was it?

“You know what, sure kid.” Adam instead replied.

The kid cheered, apparently eager to learn how to kill more effectively. Adam was well acquainted with the desire.

But first, getting paid. “Come on kid, we’re leaving once both our bags are full, alright?”

“Yeah! Let’s bring back lots of Valis today!”

Now that’s the spirit. Adam gave a half-grin as he tore open another corpse. Credit where credit was due, this part of the BD was incredibly satisfying.

Now if only he wasn’t being slowed down by all this f*cking meat.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

They had to stop eventually, much to Adam’s disappointment. Their bags had been practically stuffed with those little round orbs they were supposed to collect, as well as teeth and claws. Apparently monsters also had sh*tty rpg drop-mechanics. It was one of the stupidest things he had ever seen, and had nearly taken him out of the experience entirely.

He’d tolerate that bit for now, for the rest of the job was f*cking perfect. Go into a dungeon, wait for things to show up, kill the things that show up and rip out their bits, sell bits for cash. A constant pest issue that just so happened to take the form of things that could potentially fight worth a damn and had wonderful bursts of gore whenever they died by his hands. And he got paid on a per-kill basis, assuming he brought the f*cker’s bits back up correctly and turned it in.

Adam was beginning to think this might be the best job in the world. The soreness in his frame felt like one of those good jobs, the ones that ablate most of his armor down to the orange or red and see him needing to replace all the plating.

Wide and satisfied grin on his face, pack of laden loot over his shoulder, and still dripping with red both from his victims and his own injuries, Adam walked up the spiral staircase out of the dungeon. Burden was excitedly chatting about something or another, far less drenched in gore than he was and somewhat less wounded.

Brat had sleeves and boots after all. Scratches and bites on him rarely left more than bruising on the limbs underneath.

Adam couldn’t check his own structural status anymore, meatframes were sh*t like that, but he could get a sense by how much everything hurt. Currently, his meat was complaining loudly about how damaged it was, bruising over most of the plating, a deep pain in the myomer, scratches and brief bites over limbs, and slowly leaking blood.

Nothing that would kill him, so he’d heal up in time.

…How long did it take meatframes to repair themselves again?

Eh. Burden was chatting about healing potions being a thing, so it didn’t matter anyways. He’d just buy one of those and be on his way.

“...sure you’re okay Adam-san? You’re still dripping there.” Burden asked, glancing behind them and the trail of blood that was staining the steps, and the several people who were giving shocked or disgusted glances at all the gore currently covering his frame.

“I feel fantastic.” Adam replied, half-grin still on his face as they ascended. “We need to buy bigger bags.”

“I- uhh, wouldn’t armor be more important?” Burden asked with furrowed brows. Adam considered that for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Bigger bags let us carry more.” Adam rumbled out in explanation. “Carry more, make more valis, buy equipment faster.”

“I see. Yeah that makes sense!” Burden chirped. “Still, I think you might want gauntlets at least. I think we can afford some now.”

Adam considered the suggestion for a moment, raising once of his arms to evaluate. It was hard to see through all the gore, but it was indeed mangled somewhat. It was all upper-layer damage, so nothing that would stop him from fighting, but it was pretty irritating with how it was yelling at him.

“Good idea, kid.” Adam rumbled in reply. Having those at least would get rid of this annoying sensation once he was done at least. That, and he’d need armor for things stronger than children later on, so getting some of that early should be a good investment.

Finally reaching the doorway, Adam and Bell stepped through and into the Guild reception once more. There was a lady there, who bowed and spoke politely.

“Welcome back! Would you like to use the Guild-operated showers to wash yourself off? Only a small 50 vali fee!” The line sounded well-rehearsed and mostly dead on an emotional level. She probably had to say that many times a day.

Adam didn’t give a sh*t what she felt, because he was focused on what she said. They had showers here? Reaching up to take off his bag, he handed it to Burden and spoke. “Yes. Kid, take the bag and put it in my account. I need to wash off.”

“Can do!” Burden eagerly chirped, bounding over to talk to his girlfriend at the counter again. Adam turned his gaze back to the woman in front of him.

“Showers.”

She smiled politely, soulessly, and bowed again. “Would you like us to take the charge out of your account?”

“Yes.” Adam grunted. f*cking corpos, wasn’t that obvious?

“In that case, please follow the dotted line to the shower areas.” Showermeat pointed at the blue line of tiles on the ground, which Adam grunted and began to walk along, stripping off his clothes as he went along.

In the distance, he heard Burden’s girlfriend give out a loud exclamation. “What?!”

Be less loud woman, he’s all the way over here and he can hear your shrieks.

—

A few minutes later, Adam stepped back out of the communal showers mostly dried off. His arms, whiners that they are, were upset that he had to use soap to clean them off. They’d shut up eventually. His clothes, of course, were still stained in bits of gore but the advantages of not having sleeves on proved themselves. If you get most of the viscera on your arms, it doesn’t get on your nice stolen sh*t.

Taking up his sword, he wiped it off on said stolen cloak as he looked for the Burden.

As it turns out, Burden was exactly where Adam left him, talking to his guild advisor. Adam made his way over, ignoring the looks directed at his arms and the sharp look that the receptionmeat was giving him. Hearing his steps, Burden turned around and chirped a greeting.

“Adam-san!” His hand twitched. “We made loads today! Look!” A hand jutted forwards holding a paper slip containing the Familia account information and the most recent deposits.

Burden had a smaller bag, it honestly looked like a fanny pack over his ass but Adam didn’t care enough to tell him that. They had managed to stuff twenty-five of the roughly marble-sized goblin and kobold stones in it, and the end payout was seven-hundred and fifty valis.

Doing some quick math, that was about… twenty-five vali per core?

Adam had a somewhat larger crossbody-strap satchel-bag, stolen from some other meatbag a few days back. They had managed to fit sixty-eight cores in before it was too stuffed to fit any more. That would mean it should be… seventeen-hundred valis if his conversion was right. Checking the deposit confirmed that, yes, floor one victims had cores worth about twenty-five vali. A hasbrown cost forty vali. A hashbrown in eurodollars might cost a dollar and twenty cents.

Adam frowned as he stared at the paper. He was used to contracts that paid a minimum of five figures. Five figures in the almighty eddie, which was far more valuable than this inflated horsesh*t. All that work and, as far as Adam could tell, they had made the equivalent to about seventy-three bucks.

“We need to buy bigger bags.” He declared firmly, brows furrowed in dissatisfaction. “How long were we down there?”

“About three hours according to Eina-san.” Burden replied. Twenty-four dollars an hour. Two of them working. Twelve-dollars and twenty-five cents per hour. Below minimum wage from what he remembered.

What dogsh*t wages. He was going to improve them immediately.

Looking up from the paper, he met the guildmeat’s sharp look and scolding-frown. He was too old to give a sh*t what some meat thought about him, so he ignored it. Furrowing his brows, he spoke bluntly. “How much for your biggest bags?”

Unfortunately, the guildmeat ignored his reasonable question and started ranting about how he wasn’t being careful and how dare he and something else he ignored halfway through. About halfway through her third sentence, Adam picked up Burden by the back of his shirt and left the building, ignoring her calls as he put distance between himself and the nagging bitch.

“A-Adam-san! You don’t have to carry me, you know!” Burden complained, wiggling in an attempt to free himself from his grip without touching Adam’s arm. Said arm was being a little baby about needing to carry the kid, so with reluctance Adam decided to be nice to it. It was going to work twice as hard tomorrow though, so it wasn’t allowed to complain then.

“Hey, I know you said you’re alright but your arms are still…” Burden trailed off. “That looks like it hurts alot.”

Adam grunted dismissively. “It’s just pain, kid, it doesn’t matter.”

“So it does hurt? We can go buy a healing potion for it you know?”

“How much do healing potions cost?” That sounded like magical bullsh*t, so it was probably pretty expensive.

“I dunno… maybe about a thousand vali?” So about thirty eddies?

“Absolutely not.” Adam grunted out in reply. “That’s a third of today’s wages, almost half. That’s entirely too much.”

“...But can’t we go back in if you get healed up? We already emptied our bags.”

Adam’s feet slowed in the middle of the street. Burden turned to glance at him with a raised brow. Credit where credit was due, Adam didn’t think of that, and it was a great idea.

Adam nodded in approval. “Good idea kid, let’s go find some healing potions. Where do they sell those?”

“...uhhh I think Hestia is friends with a pharmacy familia? Miach. They sell potions I think.”

Burden and Adam stared at each other for a few moments.

“Do you know where it is?” Adam grunted out.

“No.” Burden admitted.

Adam grumbled in mild frustration.

Then he grumbled in hunger. Looking down to his stomach and frowning, he looked up and declared. “Right, we’ll ask Tiny where this ‘Miach’ is tonight, we’re going to find something to eat first.”

“Tiny?” Burden asked.

“Our employer.” Adam replied absentmindedly, looking around and beginning to move through the streets on the way back to the church. If they could find a restaurant along the way, it would be convenient to eat at before or after each trip to the Dungeon.

…were restaurants a thing in the middle ages or was it all just carriages full of radishes and whatnot?

“It’s not that she’s tiny, it’s just you’re huge.” Burden finally gained the ability to snark it seemed.

Adam glanced over and down, and raised a deliberate eyebrow at the kid. Burden maintained the look for a few moments, before glancing away. “...I suppose she is on the petite side.” He admitted quietly. “But that’s no reason to be rude to our Goddess yanno?”

“How is that being rude brat? She’s tiny. She’s tiny and has fat tit*.” Adam rumbled, looking at all the signs he couldn’t read. That one had a picture of a bottle on it. That one had the picture of a cauldron. That one had a book. “Those are two defining traits.”

Burden sputtered for a few minutes, face tinged red, unable to form a coherent response to that.

Eventually, Adam found a place that sold food. He could tell because it smelled like food and beer.

—

“Hello! Table for two, Nya?”

Adam immediately turned around, only stopped by Burden grabbing hold of his shirt. “W-wait Adam! This place sells food!”

“We’ll find somewhere else.” Adam resolutely declared.

“It’s on the way back home!”

“We’ll eat hashbrowns.”

“I don’t know what that is! C’mon we’re already here!”

Adam’s stomach rumbled again, causing him to give a long and low exhale. f*cking meat. Stop being hungry. He turned around to face the f*cking meat that greeted them.

A brown-haired meatmaid in a green dress, white apron, ugly ass cat ears sprouting from her head. Currently, said ears were folded in and downwards. Adam stared back, letting his antipathy leak through, as Burden chirped. “Yes, Table for two please!”

They were led to a booth, and sliding in with great hostility, Adam glared at nothing as two menus were sadly put in front of them.

Burden, showing a spine, was actually glaring at him as the maid walked away. Yeah real intimidating look there kid, he’s seen better glares from academy brats. “Adam, why are you being so mean to her!” He whispered loudly.

‘Hey Adam, don’t these look cute on me~?’

Adam glared at him for a moment, beforing sneering and raising the menu. “I’m gonna explain this only once, so listen up.”

Burden was still glaring at him. Adam explained quickly. “Had an ex-girlfriend once, she had cat-ears. They were as stupid as she was.”

Burden looked mildly irritated still and waited for him to continue. After several moments of looking at the menu of things he couldn’t read, Burden leaned back slightly and realized there wasn’t anything more to the story.

“...That’s it? That’s why you hate beastfolk?” He spoke in a quiet but confused manner.

“The f*ck is a beastfolk?” Adam replied with a raised brow. “I hate cats, kid, that’s all there is to it. They have stupid f*cking ears and I hate them.”

“...So you don’t hate her?”

“She said ‘nya’ greeting us.” Adam deadpanned.

“So you hate cats because you had a catfolk girlfriend and then you broke up?” Burden looked at him with furrowed brows and a sad frown. “...I don’t know the details, so I can’t tell you how to feel, but you shouldn’t be rude to someone completely unrelated Adam, that’s just being unfair.”

“When have I ever been nice?”

Burden was about to respond, before being cut off by the same brown-haired catmaid coming back over, hopping into place with a bow. “Are you ready to order? Ny-” And cutting herself off with a glance towards him.

Adam grumbled before looking at the menu again. He couldn’t read any of this sh*t and nothing had pictures. “Do you have burgers?” He asked. That was all he ever ordered from Hard Rock Cafe, back when he still bothered actually eating.

“Sorry, I don’t know what that is, ny-.”

sh*t, there goes plan A. “Sliders?”

“Sorry, ny-.”

“Nachos?”

“Nyope.” Adam’s eye twitched, as did her ears. Amber eyes locked on his blue. Her lip quivered, struggling to not make sh*tty cat noises. He turned his gaze back down.

Adam stared at the menu blankly, trying to glare it into giving him the information he demanded.

Burden chimed in, brows furrowed in worry. “Adam-san… Can you not read?”

Adam snarled. “Not this sh*tty language no. Look at it!” He held up the menu and flipped it around. “You f*ckers use this dumbass blocky-nonsense. Why?! Nothing here makes sense!”

There was silence for a moment.

“Would you like the pasta, nya?” Brown ears flicked once.

Adam growled in defeat, handing the menu back to the catmeat and ignoring the sudden focus she had on his revealed arms. The cloak not concealing anything when he had to reach out.

“...Yes.”

“That sounds good! I’ll have it too please!” Burden was looking down on him, Adam was going to pound him into the f*cking floor for this.

—

“We’re back!”
“Welcome back!”

Came the twin calls of Burden and Tinytit*, cheerfully greeting one another as they returned from the ‘Hostess of Fertility’ as it was apparently named. Catmeat had a determined look in her eyes as they left, so Adam resolved to never go back there again. All in all, the ‘pasta’ was filling enough and also cost them six hundred valis, so it absolutely wasn’t worth ever going back.

f*cking restaurants, he should burn them all down.

He grumbled his way over to the fireplace, which his employer had been keeping nice and warm for them. “Hestia-sama! We made a whole lot today! Look!” Burden called out, handing her the Guild-receipt.

Tinytit* took the receipt in her hands, before letting out an astonished sound. “Woah!” Then, clutching the paper to her chest, she started to spin around in place. “My children are doing really good!”

Adam decided to refrain from telling her they wasted six-hundred of those valis buying pasta. Their finances couldn’t afford it in any reasonable manner, so it’d be limited to never until they got better per-trip payouts.

“Heh, yeah! Really it’s thanks to Adam! He’s incredible, with all kinds of fancy kicks and stuff! He said he’ll teach me how to do them too!”

Annoying as the kid was, he had the right attitude. Adam was indeed incredible, rubbing his feet and holding them next to the fire. Shaded cobblestone was chilly and having these freeze off would be a pain in his ass.

“Humpft!” Tinytit* puffed out her comparatively large chest. “It’s to be expected of my woman’s intuition. I could tell he was a good fit for the Hestia Familia just looking at him!” Setting the paper aside, she continued. “Here! Let me update your statuses!”

After a moment, Burden was nude from the waist up and getting tinytit* to sit on his back. You know you normally have to pay for things like that kid?

“Heh! You did great today Bell-kun! Gimmie a moment and I’ll copy this.”

“Really? How’d I do?”

“Hehe! You have to wait! For me to finish!”

“Geh!”

This was possibly the least funny thing Adam had ever seen unfold before his eyes. All this touchy-feely sh*t was getting him sick.

“Alright. Here! Now it’s your turn Adam-kun!” She looked over to grin at him, then patted the floor next to her rapidly as Burden marveled at his piece of paper.

Adam dropped the cloak and started pulling off the shirt, not pausing as he heard Tinytit* wail in panic and rapidly start approaching. “Y-your arms! Why didn’t you say you were hurt?!”

Adam grunted, moving over to sit down and ignoring her tiny hands trying to touch and evaluate his arms, but not too tightly. “It’s all surface level. Not important.”

“N-not important! One of my children is in lots of pain and you call it not important?!” She was actually glaring at him now, which was about as intimidating as a church mouse.

Adam stared at her blankly, unaffected, causing her to turn her glare to the very sheepish looking Burden. “Why didn’t you say anything Bell-kun?!”

“I- I asked him if he was okay a few times when we got out of the Dungeon, but he kept saying he was fine so I… forgot.” The kid looked ashamed of himself now.

“You have a friend that sells potions, right?” Adam interrupted with a blank grumble. Tinytit* turned towards him with a tremendous frown on her face, before rapidly nodding and causing her twin-tails to flip up and down. “We don’t know where that is. We were going to buy one.”

“I’ll write it down for you!” She immediately burst into motion, moving to scribble something out and handing it to Burden, before whipping around again towards his seated form.

She looked at him with great concern on her face, which he met with irritable aggression. After a moment, she glanced down to his arms again and her lip wobbled. Hands balled into fists, she stomped around behind him and barked a command. “Stay still, okay?!”

He hadn’t moved, woman, don’t be so f*cking dramatic. Adam glared at nothing as her hands went over his back for a few moments.

After a moderate length of silence, his employer started speaking again.

“Your strength went up to fourteen. Your endurance went up to sixty two. Your dexterity went up to twelve. Your agility went up to fourteen. Your magic went up by one.”

Tiny arms valiantly tried to wrap around him from behind. Adam flinched and jerked for a moment, before giving out an uncomfortable growl. Tiny pressed her face into his back.

“...Please take better care of yourself, okay?”

“I’m fine woman!” He growled out, shifting slightly.

“Please.”

Adam gave a tremendous exhale and stared at the crackling fireplace.

“...If I say I will try, will you stop with the hugging?” He growled, stubbornly.

“I will try.” She mumbled into his back, equally stubborn.

You aren’t allowed to kill her Adam, you need her alive for legitimacy and superpowers. He forced himself to slacken with this in mind. Adam gave a blank expression, meeting Burden’s amused smile in the process.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

His arms were continuing to whine at him, but the cool air kept them shivering too much to do more than whine. There was a deep soreness in the limbs still, and while he couldn’t do much to stop that, he could increase it. His limbs, little weasley sh*ts they were, were complaining the whole time that he spent lifting and lowering heavy things behind the church.

Which was too bad for them, because Adam had no intention of stopping at any point. There was quite a bit of stone rubble and miscellaneous garbage around the back of the church, so that’s what he spent his early morning waiting on the meatbags to wake up again. They actually slept in beds like morons.

Beds were death traps, too soft to easily move off of, a blanket over top slowing you down, a sense of comfort luring you to your death. No, beds were horrible things and Adam intended to never go near one if he could avoid it. So he slept leaning against the fireplace hearth and ready to spring up and stab the first f*cker that tried something after breaking in.

Then, the moment he started hearing birds screaming, he was up and over to the well to wash off anything that had accumulated. His arms were still torn up, his legs and biceps still bruised, and everything was yelling at him. That was fine, because apparently healing potions existed and would probably help. At worst, it was probably opium in a bottle and would numb the pain, and that’s all he really needed it to do.

This was all just surface level damage, it didn’t matter. The muscles underneath the torn strips were still fully functional and the bones were doing fine.

So after his morning wash, the other two still weren’t awake, so Adam took to going through half-remembered motions of exercise that the Marines put him through. But to do that, first he needed to clear the space out.

So Adam spent the next hour or two cleaning. Big rocks moved to the side and set up like a stone wall. Wooden boards used to reinforce said stone wall. Glass bottles and smaller trash swept up and to the side with the one broom he found indoors. It was a scrub-broom, so immediately after sweeping all the loose bits to a single pile he started with his first exercises.

Pour well water onto stone. Use push-broom to scrub the floor. Murder the dirt underneath with his muscles. Plus side, this didn’t let any dirt get into his half-open wounds and lead to potential infection. Also plus side, scrubbing stone with a broom was still a half-decent workout, and it got the area clean for later use.

If he had money, he would pay some chucklef*ck kid to do this for him. Currently, they were down to his bag of stolen valis and about three-thousand vali in the guild bank account after yesterday’s deposit. He hasn’t counted out how much was in that bag yet, but he was going to empty it out at the potion shop today so they had more room to carry cores in.

From his eyeballing it, they could probably fit another twenty five or so in there. That’s like having two Burden’s carrying cores instead of one, much better profits. Average income per run round about three-thousand two-hundred vali. If his estimate was right, that was about one-thousand eddies and change per run.

He made a note to check how much the sh*ttiest armor cost to cover his arms with. Something there would cut down on their long term costs significantly.

…Actually, he stared at his black cloak, drying from the wash, and then his arms again.

He didn’t really need that, did he? Adam dropped the broom for a moment, then went over to find his sword.

—

“Oh, how long were you awake?” His employer sleepily asked, rubbing her eyes and re-stoking the fireplace with old wooden furniture. Adam grunted in thought as he finished wrapping the slightly damp strips of black leather around his arms. It wasn’t quite proper armor, but against the sharp nails and teeth of things the size of children and small dogs, it would be more than enough for him to tussle more freely.

More importantly, it was a completely free way to potentially lower their expenses, so it only made sense to do. Even if they only lasted a single run, that was a good one-thousand valis saved. Each run they lasted would be effectively another one-thousand in the account, and make the trip to buying gear that was worth a damn that much quicker.

“Couple hours.” Adam grumbled, testing the wraps and making sure they were going to stay on his arms securely. Layers of leather that slightly overlapped and held all that good blood in his arms where it belonged. Meat frames needed that to function, and replacing it was a pain. “Leftovers?” He asked.

She yawned and pointed at the wooden chest they had. Adam got up to look inside, and saw that it had a few rows of shelving currently holding old hashbrowns. Being hashbrowns, they hadn’t expired yet. Being a day old, she couldn’t sell them.

So Adam reached down and started to devour them. He’d only take a third for Burden and Tinytit* to take the rest.

“What were you doing while awake?” Tinytit* rubbed her hands together and held them in front of the fireplace, her eyes still bleary.

“Cleaning the back.” Adam grumbled through a mouthful of potato. “I’ll wake the kid.”

“...This early?”

“We have meat to butcher and valis to make, he’s got a good eight hours already.”

“My my, my child works so hard~” Her attempt to sound mature was ruined by the massive yawn and sleepy blinks that immediately followed. She wasn’t really awake yet, it seemed. Adam briefly grumbled to himself about how much slack he was picking up here.

—

“We’re heading out!” Burden spoke with a smile and a bow. Adam waiting near the door and watching.

“Stay safe, and do your best!” Tinytit* replied with an enthusiastic bow of her own. Turning her gaze towards him, she gave a mild glare. “That includes you too, mister! I don’t want to see your arms all torn up like that again, you hear me?”

Adam stared for a moment, before turning to open the door and walking out. Tinytit* made a sound similar to a ‘grk!’ as he completely ignored her and stared down the road.

After a few moments, Burden caught up with a half-smile and furrowed brows. “Still giving out goddess a hard time huh?”

“She’s worrying too much about meat. We’re already getting potions for it.” Adam rumbled a reply. A thought came to mind, and he unstrapped his stolen sword and handed it over to the kid. Burden took it with a blink.

“You didn’t have the muscle to do panzerfaust.” As they had found out yesterday, the kid simply didn’t have the ability toshakein the right ways to do it. Not even telling him to think of boiling water worked, and that’s how Adam first learned how to do it, so Adam was mostly lost on how to teach it to him other than the circular motions and force-building forms. “So you get to use the sword. That wimpy ass dagger isn’t enough for your skinny arms.”

“Hey! I’m not skinny!”

Adam stared at the kid for a few moments as they walked. He then raised an arm and flexed the bicep. Burden stared back for a few moments, before glancing down at his own arms.

“...You may have a point.” He sheepishly muttered. “But still, don’t you need a weapon?”

Adam started toshakehis still flexed arm in just the right way, still blankly staring at the kid. Point finally proven, the kid nodded.

“Alright, I'll do my best. Please be patient, I’ve never used a sword before.”

“Just swing it at things, it’s a sword, it’ll handle the rest.” Adam grumbled out. “Where’s the potion place again?”

Burden shuffled through his pockets to pull out the paper again and squinted at it. “...Uhh, the third building on the right on the next street, it has a picture of a potion hanging at the door.”

Adam was pretty sure they passed by it yesterday, which meant it was conveniently along the way back to the dungeon. Good sense of placement by his employer.

“Is that it?” He asked, staring at the building in question. Burden glanced down at the instructions in his hands, then up at the building and street names.

“I think so.”

Pushing his way through the door, heralded by a little jingle of a bell overhead, Adam figured that this was indeed a potion shop. An incredibly stereotypical looking potion shop that really should be investing in better protection against thieves. They had bottles just sitting on shelves, instead of behind nice iron bars. Drugs were usually pretty expensive, in his experience.

“Hello, welcome to the Miach Pharmacy! How can I help you?” A thin looking guy with long straight blue-black hair smiled from behind the counter, wearing some sort of tunic, short cape, and tie-up vest.

“Hello! Hestia said you sell potions right?” Burden called with a smile. The man’s face brightened up slightly at the mention of the name. Adam kept his pace steady towards the counter.

“Ah! You wouldn’t happen to be her new familia would you? I passed by her stand the other day and she was bragging on you two. Here, would you like a free sampl-”

“Absolutely not.” Adam grunted out, finally reaching the counter and cutting the man off. Raising and dropping his stolen coinpurse on the counter, he placed his order. “I want all the healing potions that can get me, starting with your cheapest and sh*ttiest ones and going up.”

The man behind the counter blinked, furrowing his brows. “Y-you want my off-stock? It’s not nearly as effective and hurts a lot more to drink you know?”

“Hey Adam, he said he was offering a free sample, weren’t you complaining about prices yesterday?” Burden asked with an equally confused expression.

“Anything offered for free isn’t actually free, it just means it’s going to screw you over later if you take it. Either because it’s poison or you get too used to the handouts.” Adam rumbled out an explanation for the brat, before turning back to the man at the counter. “I want your sh*ttiest, cheapest health potions, all of them I can get for that. If you try to offer me anything for free again I’m buying them somewhere else.”

The man gazed at him for a moment, before an understanding smile came to his face. “Ah, so you’re that kinda mortal huh? I understand. Still, are you sure you want the offstock first?”

“I said so, didn't I?” Adam grumbled. This wasn’t that difficult. “Just let me spend my money already, meatbag.”

The man chuckled, spilling out the bag and starting a count of all the coins, muttering under his breath as he did so. Adam paid close attention to the numbers and the coins they corresponded to, better to figure out their values now and not later.

“Alright alright, you can buy the offstock, but I’m giving you a bag to hold it all in at least.” The man replied after counting out the sum. Adam grumbled, but didn’t refuse this part. An extra bag was yet more cores he could carry back on each run, so it was just long term profits there.

“Your total comes to twenty one offstock healing potions for seven-hundred vali each. That’s three-hundred vali left over. Let me go get those bottles for you, I think Naaza-chan-” Adam’s fist shook. “-got those done last night.”

The man disappeared behind the door that was just beyond the counter. Adam turned around to lean against the counter, arms crossed, as he waited for the man to come back. Burden, at the very least, looked contemplative and thus not making annoying noise.

At least for a bit. “What’s with that name?”

“Hmm?” Adam responded.

“Meatbag. You use that word a lot.” Burden responded.

Adam wondered how he was going to explain it for a moment. Rumbling aimlessly as he pondered this, he eventually spoke after a moment. “There was a kinda… philosophy I guess back home. Metal is better than meat. You know what a prosthetic is?”

“Yeah, they’re like golem arms for people. Gramps had a friend with one when I was growing up.” Burden responded. Good, he was familiar with the concept.

“Well we had prosthetics back home, kid, and they were better than anything a normal limb could manage.” Adam grinned savagely. “Arms made of proper myomer-muscle and titanium bones, plated in chrome and steel. They didn’t get tired. They didn’t yell about all that pain they were supposedly in. They were stronger than the strongest normal stuff, you could even put weapons in them.”

“...So metal over meat is…”

“It means why would any f*cker still waste their time with meat when you could upgrade to metal? You said they had prosthetics here right kid?”

“They should.”

“Remind me to track those down once we got the money for it so I can get rid of all this f*cking meat and it’s bullsh*t. These arms have been yelling at me since yesterday.”

“I thought you said they weren’t in too much pain?!” Burden sounded simultaneously irritated and worried. Brows furrowed and frown on his face.

“No.” Adam grumbled. “I said it was just pain. It doesn’t matter. It ain’t slowing me down, it’s just screaming in my ear.”

“Sorry, did you say you were hurt?” The man called out with a worried tone.

“It’s none of your business is what I said!” Adam called back with an irritated rumble.

“Sorry, sorry!” The man came back out, a satchel bag and hand raised. “God of medicine, you know? I can’t help but worry about these kinds of things. Your order is ready.” So this is the ‘Miach’ or something? Were all gods going to be this unimpressive or what?

Adam grumbled as he took the order, counted the bottles inside, and took one out to see how it worked.

“Now it is offstock so it’s going to burn as it-.” Miach tried to warn, which Adam ignored and downed the bottle in one go.

He paused.

Lowering the bottle.

Adam closed his eyes.

Breathing in once, holding it, then exhaling.

Opening his eyes again he replied casually. “Not bad. Almost had me.”

His body was screaming at him. His sh*tty meatframe roaring in disapproval as the apparent magical potion went to work on it, starting from the deeper internals and working its way outwards. It wasn’t too bad. He knew what to brace himself for in the future, so he’d be ready for it.

The apparent god was staring at him with a deeply worried expression. Adam ignored it and turned to Burden, before jerking his head for the door. “C’mon kid, we got meat to butcher.”

Burden too, was staring at him with a worried expression. Adam ignored it and walked out the door. The kid followed soon after, racing to catch up. “A-are you healed up now?”

Adam’s limbs were still burning, so he wasn’t sure yet. Handing the bag back to the kid, he unwrapped one of his arms to check. Adam raised both brows at what he saw.

Skin covered in thin white lines and discolorations of scar tissue, but otherwise completely restored, twisting the arm to and fro, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary with it. Flexing again and again, the burn slowly died down to a mild soreness and nothing more as they walked along.

Functionality completely restored, surface-level damage repaired, breaches in outer layer patched.

“Goddamn, these are good.” Adam commented mildly, starting the process of re-wrapping his arms.

“Adam! Blasphemy!” Burden complained at him.

He ignored it, his mood was too good from how effective these things were.

His mood was promptly ruined when he looked up to see a horrible sight.

Frowning deeply, he moved to cross the street and walk down the other side.

The thing in front of him moved to block him. It was faster than him, unfortunately.

He narrowed his eyes, stood up straight, and glared at the thing blocking his path forwards.

The thing stared back, brows narrowed and ears flicking.

Burden deadpanned at what he was seeing, as did several other meatmaids looking through the nearest windows. “Adam just ask what she wants.”

“I don’t give a sh*t what she wants, I want her to f*ck off.” Adam growled back, still glaring at the thing blocking his way.

The brown-haired catmeat was in the road before him, stance wide and ready to intercept him. She raised her hands, and the bag that she was holding. Wide but determined eyes and flickering tail. “Advertisem*nt sample. Free of charge. Dine at the Hostess of Fertility, nya!”

“f*ck off and die, catmeat.” Adam replied with a snarl, flexing his hands into violent shapes. Unfortunately there were entirely too many witnesses here to murder her. “Your diner is overpriced, never eating there again.”

Unfortunately, Burden walked over to the cat and offered a hand to take the ‘advertisem*nt sample’. “I’ll make sure he eats it, thank you for the sample.” His face was bright and tone all too pleased to be accepting random bullsh*t from random meatbags.

“Like hell I will!” Adam growled out. Catmeat bowed and backed away, entering the diner again and staring out from the windows. Adam kept up his furious glower as he began to move forwards again.

“If it’s advertising, then It’s not free right? So it’s fine to accept it.” Burden responded cheerfully. “Plus, now we have another bag!”

“We’re returning it when we get back.” Adam rumbled with a stormy tone. “Not touching that sh*t. It’s probably poisoned.”

“Ah, you’re right, we probably should return the bag afterwards.” Burden ignored the second part of his words entirely, causing Adam to growl and look dead ahead again.

Exhaling heavily through his nose, Adam stomped his way to the dungeon, glare set and handsshaking. He needed to kill something. Preferably a lot of things, and green children and small dogs would do just fine. Burden followed behind, practically skipping with his new bags slung over shoulder and on his hips.

Bell Cranel, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

Bell still remembered the words grandpa gave him.

'Bell… you know if you become a true hero, you'll get loads of women falling for you!'
'Woah! Really! Like, even two or three?!'
'Yup! You just gotta become a true hero first, and the ladies will be lining up!'
'I'll do it! I'll become a true hero and get a really cool girlfriend!'
'Gah-ha-ha! Will ya? I'll look forward to that!"

It was those words that drove him to Orario after grandpa's death. It was a well known fact that all the best heroes in the world were found in this city. The top-classes, the creams of the crop, the number ones. The kinda guys that he promised grandpa he would become.

Of course, dreaming about being a true hero… that's the kinda thing that kids do, you know? He was grown now, so he couldn't act like a little kid anymore. He was still going to be a real hero, like he promised grandpa, but maybe not tell people why if he could avoid it. He wasn't going to lie! Lying was wrong, but… maybe he could avoid talking about it and it'll never come up.

Of course, the first step to becoming a hero was to find a god willing to take him and join their familia. All the best heroes are the children of gods, after all, so he needed to be one before he could even start his journey up.

…That part of the journey was rough. He could understand it, for certain. He was just some ki-young man from outside the city. A scrawny farmboy bumpkin like him, just the clothes on his back and a dagger? Not exactly hero material there. So he was turned aside for a while…

Like a week. He was running really low on rent money in his savings by the time Hestia-sama found and took him in. A newly descended goddess, she had her pick of the best in the city no doubt, and she ended up picking him! That much generosity was a lot for someone like him. How could he do anything but his best to make it up to her? For enabling his silly dreams in the first place.

It was obvious how short he fell compared to the people Hestia-sama could be recruiting, because she found another member the very next day.

Laughter in front of him as the giant, supposedly only a few years older than him, threw a hand forwards and punched through the open maw of the Kobold, fist erupting out the other side in a spray of viscera. It honestly made him a little queasy to watch what was effectively a dog get killed like that, but these were Dungeon monsters so he buried it.

Like gramps said, the only thing Dungeon monsters want is to kill everyone, killing them back was just a job to do. Just like the coyotes trying to get at their chickens.

Bell swung the sword gifted to him like it was a shovel, heavy and sharp, and it crashed into the goblin's skull. The reach advantage was a lot, he noticed, and most monsters on the first floor just couldn't get a hit on him with it in hand. He should've brought a shovel instead of a dagger, in hindsight.

He pulled the sword from the cleaved skull, stepped back to avoid gnashing teeth, and swung sideways. The sword went in a wide arc and chopped into the kobold's side, sending it down too. Like Adam said, it was a sword, Bell just needed to swing it and it would take care of the rest.

He glanced over again, and saw Adam spin-kick with that same crazy shaking-style, crashing a heel into a goblin's head and making it burst like a ripe fruit. The gore painted the ceiling, walls, and his lower legs. Adam had a soft grin on his face as the red went wide. Adam had tried teaching him how to do it the other day, but no matter how hard he thought about boiling water and shook his arms, they always just got sore before any propershakinghappened.

Adam might be vulgar, always cursing like gramps did when he hurt something. Adam might be rude, always ignoring things he found annoying and telling people to leave him alone. Adam might enjoy the dungeon just a bit too much.

But Bell could say for absolute certainty, Adam was a True Hero in the making. Huge and strong, fast and quick, with loads of pain tolerance and a sharp eye. More than anything else, he was really good at killing monsters.

Bell had gotten maybe about twenty goblins and kobolds his first day. The second day he went down with Adam and they got nearly eighty. That means that Adam was getting sixty. Sixty was three times more than twenty. Gramps made sure Bell knew his numbers.

Adam was three times more of a hero than Bell was. He even had a cute girl offering him free food! Comparing himself to that, Bell was coming up pretty dang short.

Running forwards, he roared and swung the sword down. The kobold lunging for Adam turned just in time for the blade to chop down on his shoulder and into the chest. A bit of red sprayed him, but Bell ignored it. Adam was soaked in the stuff and you didn't see him complaining, so Bell wasn't about to worry about a little bit like this.

The sword was stuck, so Bell punched the next goblin. He winced as the blow bruised his knuckles pretty badly, even as it tossed the goblin back with a broken nose. It's skull was about as hard as his fists then, huh?

He needed to change that. He got twenty monsters the first day, and at least twenty one the next. So today he was going to get at least twenty two, and preferably even more. A little bit at a time, that's how work gets done.

That and he was still a little astonished from Adam's update yesterday. Bell got six or seven points on everything except magic his first day, then six or seven more the second. Adam got twelve to fourteen most things, and then a sixty in endurance! Bell clearly wasn't working hard enough!

One of the goblins leapt.

His hand swiped the dagger from his belt. A horizontal sweep.

The goblin's corpse fell on him. Droplets of red fell over his face.

Bell stumbled backwards, sputtering as the goblin's weight unbalanced him. "Gah! It got in my mouth!"

An amused snort from the giant that was his ally followed. Adam had one of those almost-smiles on his face, the kind he had whenever he wasn't killing monsters. It wasn't quite a real smile, his lips didn't even twitch, but there was an amused gleam in his eyes.

The only time Bell saw him smile was while killing monsters, it worried him a bit. Adam's face seemed to naturally settle into a frown, and almost never climbed out of that state. Similarly, his brows were almost always slightly furrowed and eyes narrowed, as if he found it slightly hard to see.

"Did you die, kid?" Adam rumbled lightly at him.

Shoving the goblin corpse off of him, he stood up straight again and looked to the hall they were in, and the dim walls that surrounded them. He was beginning to suspect that monster blood could attract more monsters, because they seemed to only increase in numbers the more Adam got drenched in guts.

"I'm fine!" He replied, looking at the bodies that now clogged the hallways. Reaching up to scratch his head at the puddles that were forming. "How many was it that time?"

"Get counting." Adam instead replied, reaching down to start prying open their chests with his bare hands. Fingers shaking and buried into flesh, then a solid grip, then a tearing motion like he was ripping firewood apart.

The goblin, corpse that it was, did not complain as it was torn in two and the little monster core fell to the ground.

Bell instead nodded to himself, then started getting to the less glamorous part of this Hero-ing business, getting the drops out. Cores and the occasional claw or tooth. The claws and teeth were worth slightly more valis each, but Adam pointed out that they were awkwardly shaped and a bit bigger than the cores, and thus wouldn't fit as many in each bag.

So it would be a net loss if they took drops over cores from the first floor. Bell took them regardless, and put them in his pockets instead. He wanted to save up enough to buy Hestia-sama something in return for taking him in, but wasn't sure what yet.

That and, well, Adam took a look at him filling up his pockets earlier and only grunted in approval, so it must be something right. The older teen had a good five years of experience on him, after all.

…Maybe he should buy one of those really big bags first? So that he could save up more and faster? It's what Adam said they should be getting as number 1 priority, and Bell saw the logic in it. He would recommend gauntlets again, but Adam turned his cloak into leather wraps and it was doing way better against their attacks than his bare skin had been.

"How many cores?" Adam grunted out.

"Eight." Bell called out. Adam nodded and finished dropping his own little orbs into the bag, standing straight up and rubbing his chin.

"...What's with the walls?" He grumbled out.

Ah! He actually knew this one! "Ah, that means this section of the dungeon is exhausted of energy, and can't make anymore monsters for a while."

Adam turned a questioning eye towards him, and Bell raised a hand to rub the back of his head. "At least, that's what Eina-san-" Adam's hand twitched. He really didn't like the guild huh? "-told me."

Adam turned his gaze back to the hall they were in, then turned his gaze back down the hall they had come from, and the long line of similarly-colored walls. He hummed for a moment. "We've just completed a loop."

"What?" Bell asked back, confused as he moved to stand closer.

"This floor. I memorized most of it yesterday. We just completed a loop. Took five hours." Adam explained.

Bell felt dumbfounded at the realization, and suddenly looked back down the previous hall again, exhausted of energy. He and Adam had only been moving on once the monsters stopped coming in each section.

Had they… had they just cleared an entire dungeon floor?

This was his third day of Adventuring. He looked down to the borrowed sword and dagger in his hands, and they felt just as heavy as ever.

…Oh hey. Bell blinked and brought the sword up closer to his face, looking at the base of the blade. "Adam, why didn't you tell me this sword had a name?"

"...It has a name?"

"Yeah, and a smithing-seal. It's called Gobrist, and it was made by someone named Bruni. Did you not know when you bought it?" Bell turned his gaze up to Adam, who frowned slightly harder.

"Found it on a corpse. Didn't bother looking at it."

Bell also dropped it. A light wave of revulsion followed. "What!?"

Adam nodded casually. "In the slums, where I was staying before I joined Tinytit*. There was a corpse in an alleyway, so I took its stuff and moved on."

"I-" Bell didn't know what his face looked like. Adam was living in the slums? There were corpses laying around in the slums? "I… shouldn't we return it?"

"To who?"

Bell wasn't sure either, but he knew they had to take it somewhere. "This Bruni I guess?"

"If you want to get rid of it, sure." Adam grunted out, clearly not caring about the topic as much as he did. "But first, let's go to the second floor and finish filling our bags."

Bell looked back up at the older teen, and frowned in consideration. It was true that their bags still weren't full… and that he kinda wanted to see the second floor already… but…

"Eina-san recommended not going down until our stats were higher."

Adam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll go down and you can stay here."

And let him die?! Bell can't do that! Not to his Goddess! He opened his mouth to protest…

Before closing it, and an idea forming behind his eyebrows. Taking a moment to think it through, he weighed the odds and potential rewards for a bit. Then, finally, with a heavy heart, he mentally apologized to Eina-san.

"I'll go with you, but it's kinda inefficient don't you think?" He slyly started.

Adam grunted in questioning. Bell continued on. "Well if we want to finish filling our bags then… we'd need to empty this bag first too huh?"

He raised a particular bag from his belt. Adam's perpetual glare sharpened with great intensity.

"No."

"I mean look at the size of this thing, we could probably fit another thirty, fifty cores in here. That'd be more than enough to pay for our meal there yesterday and it's a free meal on top!"

"Then you eat it."

"I can't do that!" Bell looked shocked and appalled. "A cute girl made this for you! If I eat it, it'll send all kinds of wrong messages!"

"Then toss it out."

Bell was about to reply.

Adam's stomach roared, cutting him off, and ending the debate.

Adam's glare burned into him like the sun.

"...You tell a goddamn soul and I'm breaking your arms." Bell resisted the urge to scold him for blasphemy again, and instead nodded.

"I won't speak a word." Bell swore, handing the bag of food off with a sincere expression and a pleased grin in his soul.

—

As it turned out, the second floor of the Dungeon had more than just goblins and kobolds. On top of those guys, there were the occasional big lizard that showed up. Goblins and kobolds were… relatively easy to take care of. One good stab or slash somewhere in the chest or head was enough to take them down, and the extra reach of this sword was more than enough to keep their claws or teeth away on their own.

It was only when more than one or two started showing up that Bell started having trouble. Adam on the other hand, was going through them with decisive blows and ignoring their attempted counterattacks each time. He got really scratched up doing this, but they had already bought healing potions, so it was probably fine.

Frankly, it was kinda awesome to watch his teammate go all out every time, without hesitation or regard for their attempts to hurt him. It was also something he knew Hestia-sama would be worried about seeing, so he restrained his urge to ramble about how sensational it was.

Bell saw the next step in his journey as an adventurer, covered in gore and grinning.

…Well, hopefully he wouldn't be as vulgar, rude, or battle-hungry. Bell considered himself a bit more polite than all that. But certainly just as strong, at the very least. Adam needed to work on his other qualities to round out his attributes as a True Hero.

"Above!" Bell called out, swinging and hacking into the side of a goblin's face. Adam's eyes darted up, and immediately spun into a counter against the giant lizard that was trying to fall on him from above with claws and teeth ready.

His upper torso leaned back, his leg coming up in a perfectly circular motion, shaking enough to blur the limb slightly, and heel crashing into the lizard's side as it descended.

The lizard's torso half-collapsed as it flew through the air and crashed against the walls of the dungeon, spraying yet more gore all over his ally, the ceiling, walls, and floors. Adam kept falling backwards, hands reaching up to brace himself against the floor.

Goblins leapt forwards to seize the chance.

Bell's borrowed sword stabbed past Adam's descending form, and crashed into one of their torsos. The other turned to face him. His dagger cut across its eyes.

This dual-wielding thing was actually pretty useful, huh.

Adam flipped by pushing off the ground, heels-over-head, and landed into a crouching position behind him. Bell stomped back, yanking the sword out of the goblin's torso and raising it to catch a new kobold's teeth. His other weapon was on the other side of his body, unable to stop the second kobold…

Adam's fist crashed into the side of its head, turning the dog-skull into red rain, blinding the first one long enough for Bell to stab its exposed chest.

Bell staggered back, and looked for the next threat. Adam rose to his full height and did the same. After a few moments of seeing nothing in particular around, the two relaxed.

Bell slumped, his arms burning and breathing heavy.

Adam's own breathing was quite heavy, but it was also completely silent. His senpai refused to show any kind of weakness, even with just noise.

Bell forced himself to straighten once more, and looked at the new corpses around him.

Adam glanced over, before snorting. "They got you on the side."

Bell blinked before looking down to see red stains on the side of his shirt, and his leather jacket slightly torn. Raising a hand to feel at it, he winced as a pain he didn't notice before burned into his mind. "Ow…"

Hearing some shuffling, he glanced up to see a thin glass vial being offered by his Senpai. Taking it, he grinned tiredly. "Thanks Adam-san."

His eyes twitched for a moment, before he uncapped and drained his own vial.

Bell figured he should do the same, uncapping the vial and hesitating. Gramps once said healing potions burnt, and that's how you knew they were working. Frowning and deciding he needed to get it over with, Bell drained the vial.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

He blinked. He was looking at the ceiling. When did he get on the floor?

He pushed himself up woozily, staring at nothing for a few moments. Blinking, he saw Adam a slight ways away, tearing open the corpse of the dungeon lizard.

"Finally done screaming?" Adam rumbled out idly, tearing open the torso with an experimental, uncertain grip. He hadn't figured out how to rip open this kind of monster yet. "You were down for about a minute."

Bell blinked.

…Oh the offstock hurt a lot, didn't it? Bell wasn't expecting it to be that bad. Reaching up to feel his side, the wound and pain was gone. His back was also soaked in floor-gore now. It was kinda uncomfortable.

What was he doing lazing around? Bell forced himself up to his feet again, and retrieved his knife. Blinking the brief stars out of his eyes, he marched over to start carving open monsters again.

Senpai had an almost-smile on his face, tearing open the lizard. He was already hard at work again, what excuse did Bell have for slacking off?

Dagger plunged into the goblin's chest, and he started working the stone out.

They were going to make so many valis today, he was going to make sure of it!

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

He divided the cores taken from goblins and kobolds from the ones taken from the new ones, the big lizards. All in all, they managed one-hundred and forty three goblins and kobolds today, earning a sum of three-thousand five-hundred and seventy-five valis. That tracked with what he knew of the conversions, twenty-five vali per child or dog, and left them with seven lizards to turn in.

Much to his pleasure, the lizards were worth two-hundred each. Fourteen-hundred valis earned from seven lizards, round about forty percent of all their child and dog kills combined, just from some roughly bicycle-sized lizards. The real issue was their relative rarity, being far more infrequent than the other two seen so far.

The guildmeat tried to lecture them about something, and while that sh*t might work on Scrappy, Adam was too busy counting their payout to care. Two-hundred per lizard. That was about six eddies per lizard compared to the one point five eddies per dog or child.

Those numbers were still infuriating to him, but this level of increase from something that was still so easy to slaughter was promising. So after showing off, depositing their gains, and counting the cash, they made their way up the stairs on the guild tower.

Scrappy wanted to return the sword to the smith for whatever reason, and Adam didn't really care enough to argue. His hands and feet were more than enough to slaughter their paychecks, and the kid still had a dagger to use if nothing else. So they asked where this 'Bruni' was and got directions up to another floor. Apparently one of the local corps rented out a tower level to set up their shops, and 'Bruni' had a stand in there.

Four-thousand nine-hundred and seventy five… That was around… one hundred and fifty eddies? They spent six hours down there, and there were two of them, so that meant about…

Adam frowned at nothing as they ascended. Then he went back over his math just to make sure he got it right, and frowned harder.

Twelve fifty an hour. Maybe a twenty-five cent increase on their per-hour wages, and that was only a given from the lizards. Clearing out each floor wasn't worth it at all. Too much time spent to gain too little, which explained why the f*ckers with the fancier gear just immediately went deeper instead of trying to clean out the higher floors.

The higher floors weren't worth a goddamn.

They needed bigger bags and deeper floors.

Reaching the next floor, they were greeted by the sounds of bustling work, hammers on metal, shouting of haggling merchants, and the smell of burning charcoal. All very familiar to him, but not in this specific combination. Glancing over at the sign, he realized he couldn't read it and frowned deeply, before ignoring it and glaring dead ahead.

"Hello! Welcome to the Hephaestus Quarter! Are you looking for something in particular?" A cheery call came out, bringing their attention towards the voice. Adam stared in something that was almost amusem*nt at the child dressed in pastel shaded dress and fluffy apron, standing on a small stand and holding a stop-sign shaped sign with yet more words he couldn't read.

"Ah! Uh… We're looking to return a sword-" Scrappy began, causing a dark shadow to pass over the child's eyes, before Scrappy continued. "My familia member found it on a… a body…" Scrappy trailed off awkwardly. The child lost the dark expression, and their eyes took on a much more understanding light.

"Ah, I understand. May I see the sword?" The child held a hand out, prompting Scrappy to hand it over. One-handedly, the child raised the sword to inspect the hilt region, before nodding and handing the weapon back. "Bruni is in section E Major, see on the sign?" The child flipped the board attached to a pole around to reveal a floor plan and a list of locations, completely with a little star that signified 'you are here'.

"She'll be the twelfth shop on the right." The child finished with a serious looking nod. "It's very kind of you to do this, so on behalf of the Haephestus Familia, I thank you."

Adam rumbled noncommittally as Scrappy bowed and blushed. You get embarrassed entirely too easily brat, all she said was thank you. Then, finished with his 'thank you for thanking me' routine, Scrappy got a move on through the wide central halls of this floor and then down one of the side halls.

Halls wasn't quite accurate, this was a rather open floor, with many of the central 'stalls' being mostly open air affairs full of wares, swarthy meats in aprons, and haggling customers. It was more like a roadway with a roof over head, and Adam couldn't reasonably tell why this wasn't just put outside somewhere instead.

Modern architecture never ceased to amaze him in how wastefully 'artistic' it was.

But going down this central way let him get a good estimation for what the 'top shelf' equipment cost. Judging from the zeros, and converting back to eddies, they had similar price tags to the stuff he would buy back in his real body. Tens or hundreds of thousands of eddies per item, rarely a bit over one million.

So similar scales seemed to hold true, his estimation for prices seemed to be accurate thus far. Scrappy, on the other hand, would occasionally see a price tag with seven zeros and promptly stumble over his own feet. Ain't you embarrassed kid? It's just big numbers. The economy is all fake anyways.

Actually talking was entirely too much effort though, and Scrappy hadn't earned that much help from him. He could figure it out on his own.

Eventually, they came to an open wooden door and a sign that probably said something but Adam didn't care to look anymore. Instead, he glanced down at the kid and questioned "Twelfth on the right in E Major?"

Scrappy nodded, before stepping through the door and glancing around. Adam helped out by loudly knocking on the doorframe.

"Just a minute! I'm in tha back!" Came a gruff female call. Stepping inside, Adam could see a great many shelves with a great many items, all with a somewhat unified aesthetic. Squarish shapes dominated much of their overall silhouettes, and many were decorated with braided knot-like designs either imprinted or carved into their various shapes and bends.

Walking over to the counter, Scrappy following close behind, Adam took a moment to glance at the prices. The most expensive item was a large rounded shield, big enough to completely cover the kid, and currently being sold at a 'astonishing discount' of ten-thousand valis. Running the conversion in his head again, that was about three-thousand eddies for what looked like a big plate made of steel.

He didn't bother frowning, either there was a trick to it or it was overpriced, he didn't really care enough to investigate.

"Welcome to Bruni's Bonkers, I'm Bruni, How can ah help ya?" A voice brought his attention back to the counter that he was leaning on. Looking over and not seeing anything, he glanced down and spotted the source of the voice. A female meatbag, perhaps about half his height and change, with fat tit* and well-tanned skin. Currently wearing an apron and oversized smithing gloves, and standing on a stool to be tall enough to effectively use the counter.

Scrappy started talking, so Adam busied himself by staring at her tit*. The top was unbuttoned and she was currently sweaty. Not bad overall, he'd rate it maybe seven out of ten. "My familia member found this sword on a… uhh… body. So we're here to return it."

The f*ckmeat turned her gaze over to Scrappy and a slightly frown grew on her face. "Ah… Well I'd say you didn't need to go that far, ah don't do installment plans so it was already paid for, but it's certainly a nice thing to do ah suppose. Lay it up ahn here ah suppose." She leaned forwards to pat the countertop, letting Adam get a slightly deeper view of her cleavage.

Scrappy brought the sword up and laid it across, causing a frown to grow on her face as she stared at the blade.

"Yeah ah recognize it. Shrimpy fella named Armin ordered it. It's not like him tah take risks in the Dungeon though, he's too chickensh*t for it." She reached forwards, grabbing the blade and lifting it up for inspection. Curiously, she raised it in a way that pressed up her chest, inspecting the seal and the wear on the weapon.

Adam raised a brow, she was absolutely doing this on purpose. Scrappy still hadn't even realized it yet. Deciding to keep the story straight he spoke up at that. "Wasn't in the Dungeon."

She glanced up, locking eyes with him at that. He continued, rumbling out an answer. "Corpse was in a slum alley, so I took his cloak and sword and moved on. Kid here insisted on returning it." He gestured a thumb over at Scrappy, who looked sheepish but firm. "I used it before letting the kid have it, then he used it for a bit, then noticed the branding. Here we are. Do you want it or not?"

She gave him a look up and down briefly, before chewing on her cheek in thought. "You weren't going to return it, ah reckon."

"Nope." He didn't care enough to do that. Killer's keepers.

"Well, least you're honest about it, that's all we can ask these days." She mused. "Ah suppose ah can give you a finder's fee, or you can keep it. It's already paid for after all, and ah don't mind."

"Your choice kid, I don't need it." Adam replied, leaning against the counter and glancing over at Scrappy, then back to staring at her tit*.

"Ah suppose you got a better weapon huh? You some kind of high-roller walking around in the bad parts of town?" The f*ckmeat asked challengingly, leaning forwards again and glaring into his eyes.

"My fists are better than any normal ass sword, woman." Adam confidently declared, not bothering to adjust his gaze.

"Normal ass sword my sweet ass!" She declared, raising the blade to interrupt his view of her cleavage. He slowly adjusted his stare up to lock eyes with the f*ckmeat with a frown. "Gobrist here is a genuine Smith-made sword, she'll always leave a scratch no matter how tough their hide!"

"...Aren't all swords made by smiths?" Adam asked, furrowing his brows.

She blinked at him, confused for a moment. Then a look of realization came to her face and she asked. "How long you've been an Adventurer for?"

"Two days. Scrappy here has been at it for three." Adam replied, bored. He reached up and pulled the sword down with one finger, letting him stare at her tit* again. She let out a bark of laughter and didn't try to stop him.

"A-Adam-san!" Scrappy finally noticed where his gaze had been the whole time, and grabbed at his arm to start trying to shake him.

"You're a co*cky little level one, eh?" f*ckmeat replied with a gruff amusem*nt. "Listen up, I'll tell you this one for free, got it? Once you hit level 2, you start getting Developmental Abilities. If you're a good hand at this forgin' business, you can choose Blacksmith."

Hefting the blade again, she tapped it twice on the hilt. "And once you got Blacksmith, you can start making stuff that no every-day backwoods smith can. Gobrist here was made with a Goblin Claw and a bit o' Adamantite."

"Woah!" Scrappy sounded suitably impressed. Adam merely raised his brow and waited for the f*ckmeat to continue. After seeing his nonplussed reaction, she explained smugly. "Gobrist here will always do something to her victim, no matter how tough their armor. It might just be a nick or a scratch, but she'll always leave something."

Adam stared for a moment, before snorting. "My fists were better."

The smith glowered, clutching the sword against her chest. "You wanna test that, level 1? Ah ain't gonna hear no slander about my products, ya hear?"

Adam scoffed, letting a tiny, vicious grin come to his face. "Alright, you gotta target?"

f*ckmeat grinned back, challengingly. "Old Grunnar lost his anvil to me in a bet, we'll use that."

—

"So whatcha want to bet, huh?" f*ckmeat asked challengingly, moving gear and supplies out of the way of the relatively small looking anvil in the back of her store. There was a lot of crap Adam didn't really recognize or care about back here, including a second, much larger anvil. Scrappy was standing in the doorway, here as the arbitrator and bell-boy, watching the front door to tell f*ckmeat if she got a customer in.

Adam raised a brow, staring at the small woman as she went about readying the area. "Your pride."

"Nah that's borin'!" She declared with a sharp look on her face. "You gotta bet something real!" Grinning and leaning forwards, hands on her hips, she declared. "How bout this, you lose and you gotta work in my shop for a week! I need someone to watch the front while I'm workin' up a sweat, and a pretty face would lure in more customers."

Adam stared, raising a brow and considering it for a moment.

"You sell bags here?" He asked. She blinked, furrowing her brows. "Bags?"

"Big leather bags." He clarified. She shook her head in a negative. Adam grumbled for a moment, before thinking again. What could he really use right now…?

"Gauntlets." He declared. "You make me a set that comes up to the elbows if you lose. Got it?"

"Heh! That ah can do!" Twisting in place briefly, she then added over her shoulder. "But I won't, because ah ain't losing you see?"

She swung the sword down with one hand, crashing against the anvil with a great ringing and sparks.

Pulling the sword back and leaning against it like a pole, she grinned down at the results. "Look at that, a beautiful lil' scratch ain't she?"

Adam moved forwards, standing over the f*ckmeat and the anvil, squinting down with these sh*tty meat eyes to get a look at it.

It was indeed a scratch. In any of his real bodies, he could beat that easily. Issue was, he wasn't sure if he could do the same in this meatframe. He frowned at the anvil for a moment, flexing his hands briefly.

She bumped her hip against his leg. "Hey now, ain't no shaming in admitting defeat ya know?" She had a smug smile on her face, like she had already won.

Adam let his antipathic stare linger for a moment, before snorting. "Stand aside f*ckmeat, I have a bet to win." She blinked, before huffing with laughter and moving over to the side.

Adam loosened up, stretching his frame and rolling his joints. Then, moving over to the anvil, he stood above it and measured his angle of attack.

Panzerfaust was a simple martial art at its core. The three components were rotation, vibration, and weight. Weight from size, from heavy limbs, from gravity. Anything to make the final strike hit slightly harder. This usually involved jumping, falling from heights and letting your own frame add to the damage.

He leaned up and back, as far away from the grounded target as he could.

Rotation was the next component, one he couldn't fully replicate for the evasive maneuvers in this meatframe. These joints didn't swivel all the way around after all. But he could replicate it for the offensive maneuvers, wide-sweeping rotations to build up and maintain more force than usual in each attack and subsequent attack, bouncing between targets like a furious whirlwind. Kagekaze always talked about 'the golden ratio' or something, but Adam never bothered to remember the philosophy behind it.

He twisted up and back away from the target, to maximize the rotational energy his blow would carry.

The last component, of course, was the vibrations. These were something that meatbags shouldn't be capable of replicating, but this sim was buggy, so he could do it in this meatframe anyways. The vibrations were perhaps the most important component, turning normal blows into vibro-weapons that mulched through flesh, bone, and steel alike.

His hand startedshaking.

Panzerfaust was a simple art at its core. The simple mathematical equations in motion required to strike as hard as the humanoid frame could possibly allow. The engineer's approach to unarmed combat, designed for the full-conversion cyborgs and their fully-metal frames. The central premise was very easy to understand.

His hand came down, blurred with theshaking.

Just hit hard.

A boom rang out. The floor rumbled. A few racks of weapons clattered briefly. "Woah!" Scrappy called out in astonishment.

Adam grit his teeth, and pulled his hand back from the stubborn anvil surface. It was mangled by the force of the blow, skin on the hand torn and bleeding all over the floor. Bringing it up to his face to inspect it, he briefly sneered at the weakness of it. The f*cking crybaby was screaming again, acting like any of this damage was more than superficial.

"Woah! Woah! Woah!" f*ckmeat bounced over to grab at his hand. He raised a brow and subtly readied his other hand to strike if she tried something. She looked at his hand with a worried expression, taking stock of the damages. "Ya didn't have to ravage yerself for a bet! Boy! Under tha counter I got a healing po-"

"No." Adam grunted, reaching into his own bag and pulling out one of his own. He wasn't about to rely on charity for just a little mangled hand. He only drank half of this flask earlier, not needing anything more to fix up bruises and cracks. Finishing the other half now, he briefly paused and said nothing as it went to work.

After a few moments of the meat screaming, his limbs were fixed up again, leaving only light discoloration and stains in the leather wraps. Glancing over at the anvil, he spoke again. "I win."

f*ckmeat glanced up from his hands. "Huh?"

Adam spoke again. "I win."

Her gaze turned over to the bloodstained anvil.

And the crack that ran through about a third of the metal block.

f*ckmeat stared at it for a moment.

"...Yeah… Ah suppose ya did." She replied after a moment.

"You need measurements." Adam stated idly.

"Yeah… ah can do that now, if you're free for a bit?" She asked. Adam raised a brow, recognizing the tone. Taking his bags off his shoulders, he walked over to hand them off to Scrappy, who took them with a raised brow.

"I'll be here for a bit, kid. Head on back. I'll be back once she's done sizing me up." Adam rumbled out.

Scrappy blinked curiously, before nodding and raising a hand. "Oh, alright. See you back at the house." Adam watched him go for a bit. Hands slide around his waist and up to his lower stomach. He grinned to himself.

"co*cky little level one, ain't ya?" f*ckmeat purred at him. "Lemme go lock the door."

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

It had been a while since he had done this song and dance. Maybe about… thirty, fifty years? He hadn't been in one of his Gemini frames for about that long, and it would be stupid to put a cyberco*ck on a warframe. Wasted space that could be used internally to mount additional myomer strands or externally to mount more armor. Both of which were more useful for his job than a dick would be.

Hands on either side of the f*ckmeat's head, pulling her down and thrusting his hips forwards at the same time. co*ck disappearing past her lips and down her throat. Delighted hums emerging with each thrust and massaging him as he went to work on mouth. Plush lips and drooling throat wrapped around him like a vice.

He had only half-remembered what this felt like, but it all came rushing back to him the moment he had fully sheathed himself inside her maw. A delightful little activity that he set aside for more murder, and while that had been the correct decision, there was nothing wrong with indulging in old hobbies from time to time. Just like riding a bike, you never really forget.

Even if he was a little rusty at the moment.

In and out, in and out. The objective here was to get his dick nice and wet for the next part, and her mouth was a real convenient source of lubrication.

Much to his displeasure, an involuntary grunt escaped his lips. He had the right equipment in his Geminis to do this, but better. A Mr. Studd could let you last as long and hard as you wanted, barely a thought required to control the damn thing. This meatframe didn't have the luxury of such self-control.

In and out and…

He hesitated, twitching briefly. His fingers tangled in her hair. A snarl came to his lips, and holding his breath, he slowly extracted himself from her welcoming mouth. He wasn't about to get done in by a face f*ck.

Her smug f*cking face was the worst part. His slipped out from her mouth, her tongue saying farewell with a warm and wet hug as he extracted.

She took deep breaths as he exited, rubbing her face against the drenched pillar. "Y-you've done this before huh…? N-not bad~"

Adam growled and removed a hand from her head.

"Eh!" She yelped playfully as his co*ck smacked her in the face. Eye's half lidded, she stared up at him. "You're being so mean to me~"

"'Bout to be a whole lot meaner." He rumbled with a glare, pulling her up by the hair to straighten her out. She rubbed against him the whole way up, eventually letting his dick rest against her breasts. Just the right size to plow those standing, but he had better things to do.

He reached down her back, past her ass, and hooked his two middle fingers across her crotch. She jumped slightly as his middle and ring fingers pressed into her holes from below, leaning against him and tensing the legs together involuntarily. Then, grip secured, he pulled her up.

She let out a long low groan as she was hoisted up to rest against his chest. Arms came up to wrap around his neck. Conveniently, she was wearing a skirt, inconveniently, she was wearing panties. A quick finger looped around and a jerk to tear the weak fabric resolved that issue.

"Hey!" She complained, leaning back away from his chest to give a half-hearted glare. "Not that kinda mean~"

With a blank expression, he slipped two fingers inside. It was more difficult than he remembered it being, with how tight she was clenched. She was already slick, however, and that made his job easier. Her lower half jolted, but her face maintained composure throughout. That composure lasted until he pushed deeper in.

"Hn~" Her brows furrowed and lips twitched.

He raised his brow and curled his fingers.

"Hn!" Her eyes twitched, still trying to stare at him.

He pulled the fingers out,draggingacross her interior as he did so. Her attempted scolding broke with a moan, collapsing against his chest again.

"What were you saying? I wasn't paying attention." Adam growled sarcastically. She attempted to speak again, only to be cut off as he sunk his fingers in again.

"S-so mean~!"She mumbled against his chest, lower half rocking with his one-handed efforts. Slowly, rhythmically, he built up momentum with his two-fingered thrusts. Like a train building speed, going full burn from the get go wasn't going to work. You had to start off leisurely, and slowly work up to full pace.

He waited until he felt her legs start to shake. Then it was time to strike.

Lining himself up as he worked her, he let out a low rumbling chuckle. She moaned inquisitively.

He didn't bother answering, instead just spreading his middle fingers as far apart in her interior as he could and lowering his hand in the same smooth motion.

She yowled, both in delight and outrage, as he effectively dropped her onto his dick. His toes curled aswarmandwetclamped down around him, and his brows furrowed in concentration. Her legs locked around his waist as he impaled her. The meat complained about that, and Adam was almost confident he could hear bones creak.

He ignored it, he had better things to worry about, like his grip on her hips. Hesqueezed, kneading the meat there as she adjusted to his length buried inside. It was only the gentlemanly thing to do, to go slow and gentle.

Then, because he wasn't a gentleman, Adam began f*cking her like she owed him money.

In and out, rubbing his length against her inner walls, and trying his best to hold his breath. She was only barely muffling herself at this point, loud sounds of delight coming from her wriggling form and finding a harmony with the meaty smack of hips meeting again and again. He could lock lips with her to shut her up, but his dick was in her mouth a little while ago and he still hadn't bought a toothbrush.

So instead, he let her make all the noises she wanted as he valiantly struggled against the end.

"Ah~ ah~ ah~" She practically started squeaking as he pounded into her, only capable of holding onto him and squealing in their current position. This was deliberate, because Adam was still trying his best to remember how to do this correctly. His memories were currently being fogged over by the sensation of her lower lips wrapped around him.

Finally, his weak meat gave up on him.

He inhaled, unable to hold his breath any longer. Snarling as he lost the battle, he resolved to go down fighting, thrusting even as he stained her insides white.

"H-heh~Gotcha~" She breathily whispered into his ears, legs clamped down around his waist and preventing him from escaping.

His brows furrowed, and he buried the sensation as well as he was able. He growled, then stomped forwards. She yelped as he pushed her down against the cracked anvil, legs still locked around his hips.

Briefly, she locked eyes with him, then widened them again.

She threw her head back as he immediately resumed thrusting, pushing her down against the cool metal with each collision of their hips. Her delighted squeaks shortly resumed in full.

A purposeful cough brought his attention upwards. There was a woman at the doorway, arms crossed and expression unimpressed. Black haired, red-eyed, tanned skin, and well-endowed. One of her eyes was covered by a black eyepatch, and she was wearing what Adam could only describe as a crop-top sarashi.

Old Saburo would probably have a fit seeing it. Unbothered by the intruder, Adam raised a brow, locked eyes, and kept his thrusting at a steady pace.

The meat he was f*cking was somewhat more worried about the new presence. "A-ah~ C-captain!Ah~"

—

f*ckmeat was currently on the floor in a dogeza, having since thoroughly wiped herself down. Adam too, had been wiped down and reclothed, and currently his arms were crossed, staring blankly at the woman now in the shop with the two of them.

The woman, the apparently named 'Tsubaki' in the crop-top sarashi, was alternating a glare down at her apparent underling and a blank look at him.

After a few moments she sighed, performed a shallow bow, and began to speak in a rehearsed tone. "Honored customer, on behalf of the Hephaestus Familia, I apologize for the undignified behavior of one of our members. While it is somewhat difficult to differentiate between, a space in the tower rented out for the purpose of advertising and vendoring is not an acceptable zone for illicit goods and services, including the distribution of restricted substances, blasphemous materials, and erotic activities."

Crossing her arms underneath her bust, she continued. "To amend this lapse in judgment, the Hephaestus familia is prepared to offer a favor within reasonable limits in exchange for the customer's discretion in this matter. Alternatively, a small valis payout or discount coupon is available if preferable."

Adam nodded his head, understanding the situation. Reaching up to rub at his chin, he replied. "Landlords will fine the sh*t out of you if they find out about one of your members f*cking in here, won't they? This is a bribe to stay hush-hush about it?"

Croptop turned a glare down at the still kneeling woman. "Yes. The Guild has gotten onto our asses about this happening before, andsomebodyshould know better than to seduce customers during work hours." Adam decided against relaying the specifics of what led him to hammering Shortstack on her own anvil.

Turning her gaze back to him with a frown, she continued. "It takes two to tango, but I'm giving you the benefit of doubt in assuming you didn't know about this rule?" Adam nodded in confirmation, he indeed did not know about this guild fine they had to deal with, and she nodded back. "So that in mind, I'm not going to have my boys run you off. I'll be nice and formal about this and just give you something to stay quiet about this dalliance."

"So whaddya want? Ask too much and I might just reconsider."

Adam didn't have to think long. "A bag." Only an amateur loses sight of the true goal while getting side objectives done, and his gaze was focused squarely on more money.

She raised her brows, so he clarified with a rumble and hands gesturing the approximate proportions of what he was talking about. "One of those big leather duffle bags, if you have those. The bags I got ain't worth a damn, too little space to work with during a trip down under."

"...A duffle bag huh? Yeah, that's easy enough. Come by tomorrow morning and I'll have one ready for pickup. If there's nothing else…?" She pointed a thumb at the door, and he got the hint.

Making his way towards it, he called back over his shoulder. Not loudly, no need to piss off the local honcho, but loud enough to be heard in the shop. "See you later, Shortstack. I'll come pick up my gauntlets tomorrow. You know the shape of my arms, right?"

f*ckmeat twitched at the reminder. They had not, in fact, measured his arms. Adam knew that full well. Croptop sent him an unimpressed look, before snorting and rolling her eyes.

Opening and moving through the door, Adam made his way back towards the central elevator, probably powered by magic or something.

The child waved goodbye at him. "Hope you found what you were looking for!"

Adam gave a half-grin and descended. Sex and free sh*t, he should really come by these floors more often.

Down at the first floor again, he moved out to exit the tower, then paused in consideration.

Raising an arm, he sniffed himself.

He reeked of sex. He needed to use the shower here…

…Well… If he was already going to use the shower…

Adam turned and made his way for the Dungeon entrance. He was already going to clean himself off before heading back, might as well make full use of it and get another little massacre in first.

---

Rookies often get distracted in a scrap, distracted by things like 'not getting hurt' or 'optimal strikes'. These distractions led to sloppy performance, sloppy performance led to more injuries or mistakes, increasing mistakes and injuries led to sloppier performance. A death spiral begins, in which some co*cky little sh*t gets into a fight that he can't handle, and he can't handle it because he's worried about all the sh*t that doesn't matter.

He stomped forwards, throwing his fist forwards with his movement and impaling the kobold through its open jaws. One down. Then he stomped forwards again, twisting and turning to put him on the outside of the circle once more.

The most important element in any fight was not making it out without injury, or killing optimally. It was initiative. It was about killing fast. Your targets can't do anything if they're already dead, so the correct choice will always be 'what kills the most f*ckers, the fastest I can manage?'

The two nearest kobolds attempted to circle around him again. He tossed the corpse in the way of one side, and carrying the motion, lunged forwards to punch another hole through the dog on the right. Two down. He raised his arm, letting it intercept the gnashing teeth attempting to chomp down on him.

If you're fighting six dogs and they move to surround you, the correct answer is to immediately start smashing them into paste. Kill one, and now you only have five dogs to deal with. Kill two, and you only have four to deal with. No point in worrying about the jaws that tried to clamp down on your arm in the process, you'd survive, and you had things to murder. No point in worrying about keeping one side safe, just keep moving.

He twisted, using the jaws on his arm to carry the dog and smash it against the wall. The dark bluish-gray wall was painted red as dog met stone. Three down. Teeth latched onto his leg. He was wearing pants. Those teeth couldn't do anything more than aggravate the meat. He ignored them.

If you care about the little things, you'll get pulled to the ground and eaten. These floor one things most certainly qualified as little things, because as far as Adam could tell, they were only about as dangerous as normal dogs. The only real difference was that these dogs never tried to run away, which made them a lot more fun to slaughter.

A dog lunged for him, jaws ready to clamp down. He twisted back, and repeated a tried-and-true strategy of punching into their open maw. It was very difficult for things to bite down when they had a fist down their throat. It was even harder for them to bite down when he had his fingers around their spine.

Four down.

The one clamped to his leg attempted to claw up at his groin. He twisted on the ball of his other foot, and smashed the f*cker against the wall. He grunted as his meat gave out, one leg collapsing as the last dog clawed behind the knee.

It lunged for his throat.

He lunged faster.

Hand wrapped around the dog's throat, and Adam forced himself to his feet again, holding the struggling kobold by the neck as he ascended.

"The issue with trying that, meat, is that my reach is better." Adam calmly explained with a rumble and a satisfied glare. "That was clever though, trying to drag me down to your level. You should have done that immediately instead."

The kobold attempted to kick at his face. How rude.

He smashed it against the floor, letting red paint the stone yet again. Raising himself up again, ignoring the meat yelling at him, Adam slowly exhaled. Painted in gore, covered in minor damages, and surrounded by bodies.

He grinned. God he loved this place. There was a song in his heart as he started his work, ripping corpses apart for the shiny things within. Kneeling and digging his fingers into the first corpse, he half-sang, half-spoke to himself. "Take me down to the paradise city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty~"

Tearing the body apart, he was getting the hang of how to do this properly, he hummed the next lyric. He doesn't normally go for music while working, it covered up all the screams, but these f*cks didn't have the decency to make any for him. So he was probably going to have to improvise here. "Oh won't you please take me home, oh yeah~"

One core ripped out. He moved onto the next.

He paused. Pitiful meat-sensors on full blast. He turned his gaze to the end of the hallway. There was a small group of other meatbags there, staring at him, weapons lowered and blank looks on their faces.

He raised a brow. Three girlmeats, not one of them taller than five foot, and if he had to guess, not one older than fifteen. Two in eastern style clothing and one in western, the randomized mixture of aesthetics annoying him tremendously. Shortest one had green hair and a cartoonish looking hammer, the next tallest had white bunny ears and a katana, and the tallest had black fox ears and a shinto wand.

All three looked rather dumbstruck.

"Never seen a slaughter before?" He grumbled, resuming his ripping the corpses apart.

"I… um…" Bunnyears attempted to say something, trailing off as he tore the kobold apart and retrieved another marble-sized core. "Ano…" His eye twitched at that.

"Eastern or Western, f*cking pick and stick with one." Adam complained to himself, reaching for another corpse.

"I think we found one of those 'foreign brutes' granny told us about."Foxears spoke in Japanese to her friend, who nodded in turn. Unfortunately for them, Adam had to learn the language as part of working for Arasaka. You either knew how to speak the 'language of beauty' or you soon learned, old man Arasaka accepted nothing less.

"Shut up, you're damn annoying."Adam replied in the same language, growling and looking up from his work just to glare at them. Idly he wondered if he could get away with slaughtering them, but he was in a good mood and also slightly injured right now.

The girlmeats were taken aback by that, and for a time things were good.

Unfortunately, then they approached and started excitedly chatting."Hey! Hey! You're an easterner too?! We haven't met too many in Orario since leaving, hey where are you from? We're from Inaba! Is that close to your home?"The sim was lazy enough to just have Japan as is huh? Adam was distinctly annoyed by that.

Grumbling at the misfortune he brought among himself, he resolved to ignore the meats and just focus on ripping open the rest of his kills.

"Um… He looks kinda annoyed… maybe we should leave him alone…" The shortest one was also the one Adam decided was his favorite at that moment.

"What are you saying Collins-san?" His eye twitched again. "He doesn't mind the company of his countrymen, look at him!"

Adam locked eyes with the shortest one as he ripped another kobold in half. His blank expression was all the motivation she needed to take another step back.

"Hey! Hey! You're definitely a martial artist! Who did you learn under?!"Adam didn't respond. Bunnyears replied with an offer."We'll help you carry loot out if you tell us!"

Adam stared blankly for a moment, before huffing in frustration and replying."I was taught by Kagekaze. Now get to work, brats."

"Woah! Shadow Wind? That's totally a ninja master right? Who did he serve?"Animal ears 1 and 2 started cutting bits of monster off for him, excitedly chatting the whole time.

"Old Man Arasaka."He grunted.

"Storm Mountain! That must be a frontier clan huh?!"

Adam's mood was beginning to evaporate, but he wasn't about to say no to the extra carry weight from three brats. He had valis to make.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

"You came home too late!" The voice of his employer called out, scoldingly. Adam ignored it for a moment, still shaking off the sleep and munching on leftover hashbrowns. He did, indeed, come back late enough that both Tinytit* and Scrappy were already asleep. That was convenient for him, allowing him to down a healing potion and compare finances with three extra brats to haul loot for him.

They were allowed to keep half of it by the end of the brief, hour and a half delve. In total, he had spent about eight hours down in the Dungeon the other day. It was only an hour and a half because all three of the meatbrats who decided to follow him around like ducklings only had the same type of tiny purse thing that Scrappy had. They could barely carry what he was capable of pulling in.

At a mere eight hours a day, he was definitely slacking off in the murder department. Eight hours for sleep. Three hours for rest, repair, and refuel. That was still a good twelve or thirteen hours he could be spending on killing more, and therefore earning more. He was being pretty damn inefficient right now, and that was pretty damn annoying.

"I bet you were playing hooky with that smith huh?" His employer growled at him, hands motioning like she was strangling someone. "Bet she took you on a nice date at a nice restaurant huh? Wore a pretty, expensive dress and everything, I bet."

"He was getting measured for his gauntlets, Hestia-sama. I'm sure that takes awhile." Scrappy tried to excuse him.

Adam chewed for a moment more, swallowing the hashbrown. Once done, he finally replied. "She forgot to measure me, we were too busy f*cking."

Both employer and fellow employee went red at that, and began to sputter. While they were regaining their composure, Adam took stock of their finances again. His second trip down into the Dungeon was fairly productive, earning him one-thousand eight-hundred and seventy five valis, half of the total earnings. The three meats got to keep the other half, because this was well above what he could carry in his hands.

These pants didn't have pockets. Real sh*t quality pants. Which made sense because he stole them from where they had been hanging up to dry on some rack. Free was better than good.

All in all, they had earned six-thousand eight-hundred and fifty valis total. Combined with the change that was in the account when he had arrived, and they were a bit over seven thousand right now. Assuming his math was accurate, that seven k figure was more like two hundred and ten eddies.

But, progress had been made, he was getting a free bag today. That was a significant upgrade from yesterday. Speaking of upgrades, he looked up from the account statement, at the still pink-face tinytit*, and pointed at his own back. "Update."

She stared at him for a moment, before crossing her arms and turning to the side with a huff. Adam let his face fall into an unimpressed expression as she grumbled. "My ungrateful child stays out late and sleeps with strange women, doesn't even say hello to his goddess, maybe he'll appreciate me more if I don't update him…"

Adam stared for a moment more, before snorting and standing up. "Brat, you ready to go?"

"No! No! No! Sit down! I'll update you!" Tinytit* immediately leapt forwards to latch onto his arm, panic in her voice. She growled in mild frustration at him as he settled down into a cross-legged position again. "Disagreeable, testy child. If I don't update you you'll go get killed."

"Like hell I will." Adam idly disagreed. "Kid, we're up to seven thousand valis. We should be able to get to ten thousand by the end of the work day today."

Scrappy was staring at him, one hand raised to rub at the back of his head and expression conflicted. "Multiple trips…?"

Adam shook his head. "I got a free bag after you left. We'll go pick it up first, and stay down until either the shift ends or it's full. We got plenty of healing potions to last."

"And food?" His employer grumbled at him. She sounded mad that they were making money for the corp, which was all kinds of bizarre.

Adam grunted, considering the issue of food. "...We have leftovers. Pack a bag with that again today." Scrappy nodded and moved to start putting hashbrowns from yesterday into one of their spare bags. All those spare bags that will soon become redundant.

"...how long were you in the Dungeon yesterday." Tinytit* asked, he could hear the furrowed brows and frown on her face.

"About eight hours, five more than the day before." Adam rumbled in reply.

"...About twenty five more in Strength, Dexterity, and Agility. About ninety more in Endurance. Two more in Magic." She replied after a time with a tone he couldn't quite place. "I asked Hephaetus-chan about this yesterday. Adventurers don't grow this fast unless they're being pushed to the absolute brink."

Arms wrapped around his back again. Adam tensed, before forcing himself to relax with another grumble. Tinytit* continued. "You're putting yourself in a lot of danger, aren't you?"

"Danger implies I can die against anything I've seen thus far." Adam replied with an annoyed growl. "I'm killing kids, dogs, and lizards here. None of that is a threat."

"...what?" She asked, baffled. She pulled back a bit, probably to stare at the back of his head.

"Goblins, Kobolds, and Dungeon Lizards." Scrappy called out in explanation, carefully placing row after row of cold cooked potato into one of their bags.

"Ah." Tinytit* replied in understanding. "...You sure you're not in danger…?"

"I'm Adam f*cking Smasher. They're the ones in danger."

The arms around him squeezed again. He grunted in irritation. "Please stay safe. I don't want to lose you, okay?"

His employer worried entirely too much for someone who was in the business of sending mercs to a murderpit. Lives were cheap, worrying about all of them was only going to waste everyone's time. Instead of saying this, he grunted and let her draw her own conclusions.

After another few moments, the foreign and unwelcome arms around his torso retracted and he was able to stand up again without bringing a leech up with him. She stared at him as he put a shirt back on and gathered up what little supplies they would need. Staring back, Adam frowned and let out a long, annoyed sigh.

"We will buy armor before going down today." He allowed, knowing that this was going to cut into their budget significantly.

His employer cheered.

"Kid, pack an extra bag of leftovers, we're staying down there for twelve hours today." He added, quickly cutting off his employer's cheering and bringing an excited 'really?!' from Scrappy.

Her look towards him told him she knew full well that he was partially doing it to mess with her.

—

Cleverly, he had managed to avoid running into catmeat again by taking a slightly longer route, one he had scouted the night before on his way back. Scrappy gave him a knowing look along the way, but wisely avoided saying anything. Once they had reached the giant ostentatious tower in the center of the city and climbed up to the fourth floor again, he and Scrappy were soon in front of the storefront they had been yesterday.

And the sign in front that said 'closed for renovation'. Raising a brow and ignoring this sign, Adam pushed his way through the door and into the store to see several individuals moving supplies and items into boxes. One of which was Shortstack herself, who growled to herself as he walked in.

"Took ya long enough. Here, yer winnings and bag." She grunted, walking over to the counter and hoisting up something that made Adam rumble with satisfaction. A brand new leather duffle bag, and quite a good sized one at that. Walking over, and being followed by Scrappy, he took the bag to investigate it and its interior.

"Renovations?" Scrappy asked, causing Shortstack to grumble to herself.

"I lost storefront privileges for a while, so the familia is buying up my stock at a discount." She explained with crossed arms. "So I'm not gonna be forging until I earn them back, renting a space for it in the city is too expensive. In the meanwhile, I suppose I'll be delving."

"They're taking your forge away?" Scrappy asked, entirely too concerned. Adam took note of the extra bags on the side of the larger bag. Even more storage capacity!

"Nah, not really. I still got all my tools and such, just not a place to set up a workshop. Not at any reasonable price at least…" She grumbled to herself about rent for a few moments. "So it's all going into storage until Captain isn't irritated by me anymore.

"...Hey Adam." Scrappy asked suddenly, drawing his attention away from the reinforced strap. He grunted inquisitively, and Scrappy continued. "We got a space behind the church that we aren't really using, should we ask Hestia-sama if she can set up shop there?"

Shortstack perked up at that.

"Two issues brat." Adam replied, raising one finger and confirming that there weren't any zippers on the bag, just leather ties and buckles. "Our employer is renting from someone, that's where most of the stand-money is going."

"Oh yeah! She's renting it from her friend, Hephae…" Scrappy blinked, before finishing. "Hephaestus-sama…."

"I can ask if it's fine!" Shortstack eagerly replied, bouncing in place at the potential opportunity. Adam raised a second finger.

"Second issue, we don't have another bed." Creature comforts are something that meatbags tended to enjoy entirely too much, even if they were insane and liked beds of all things for those comforts.

"I can commute!" Shortstack replied, slamming hands on the desk with a fiery look in her eyes. "It's a smith's shame to be deprived of a forge! So long as the rent is reasonable, I'll do it!" Wasn't that true for literally anywhere? That was a pointless statement.

Adam, not really caring either way, hummed noncommittally and opened the duffle bag's main space. Inside were a pair of gauntlets and the sword that Scrappy wanted to return. He lifted both with a raised brow.

Shortstack replied with a scoff and a smug look. "What? You think I didn't measure your arms? Try them on."

"And the sword?" Adam replied, going through the motions of putting the new gauntlets on his arms. Leather and cloth padded interior with segmented plate and chain exterior, attached to his forearms with leather straps and curved plates that covered his elbows. The straps had adjustable buckles, so it would probably fit him regardless, probably deliberate on her part.

"Well if I'm losing the storefront for a bit, it's hard for me to give a discount ain't it? The kid can keep it, ah don't use a sword." Shortstack waved it off. Acceptable answer, Adam handed the sword to Scrappy and started to put on the other gauntlet.

"I'll ask Hestia-sama if you can rent out the back for your forge!" Scrappy eagerly replied, something that shortstack huffed in amusem*nt at before reaching over the counter to rub his head.

"Yer a good kid, ya know that? Make sure you keep tall, blond, and handsome here humble, alright?"

"Humble is for meatbags." Adam grunted out in reply, ignoring the hypocrisy of his own fleshy state, finished attaching his newly won gauntlets, and swung the bag over his shoulder. "C'mon kid, we got monsters to kill. We'll be picking up the drops from now on, we can actually carry those."

"...you weren't carrying the drops back?" Shortstack looked baffled at him. As if he was doing something incredibly stupid.

"They don't sell for enough compared to fitting more cores in." His logic, of course, was foolproof.

"Not to the Guild maybe! Bring those up here to sell them next time, the Hephaestus familia will give you a better price for em. We always need more for lower-level forging." She lectured, waving a finger in his direction.

Adam grunted. That was actually somewhat helpful, if true. He was still annoyed by the tone and finger, but resisted the urge to snap it off her hand. He nodded and moved to the door. "C'mon kid."

"See you later, Bruni-san!"

"See ya later boys~" She called out cheerfully as they left.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Bustling shops and haggling going on all around them, feet and boots trailing over paved stone.

"...Weren't we going to get armor?" Scrappy asked, remembering the earlier promise to their employer.

Adam nodded. "I forgot." He admitted without shame, armor wasn't particularly important to him, not against the things they were killing currently.

Not knowing where exactly to go, they went to go ask the guide-child where cheap armor was.

Apparently, the answer was 'go be poor somewhere else' and 'from the Guild'.

Unfortunately, Adam couldn't exactly disagree with the sentiment. They needed to make more valis.

—

"I'm glad to see you're finally investing in some protection." Guildmeat smiled proudly at them as he and Scrappy shrugged on the new gambeson jackets. All in nondescript black, and all from a wide variety of standardized sizes. It was both the cheapest armor available, and a complete and utter waste of valis even at the heavy discount that the Guild provided for it.

A mere one-thousand valis no matter the size, right about thirty eddies if he was converting back. Not bad, right?

f*cking wrong.

Yes, cloth armor against claws and teeth, that was going to last long. These jackets were going to be useless in less than a week, forcing a dumbass to buy another to replace it, and turning the investment into yet another money sink. One thousand valis a week to keep yourself 'safe' from children and dogs, like anyone competent needed help against those things.

This wasn't a product, it was a hidden tax. One that Adam was willing to bet many stupid people fell for constantly. The issue was, a suit of 'proper' armor from the Guild? One that used metal and would actually last against the claws and teeth?

Twenty thousand valis, per set, only sold in sets. Twenty times more expensive than the gambeson they were currently wearing, and Adam could tell that it would probably last a hundred times longer. It was objectively better from an investment point of view, but they didn't have anywhere near enough to buy it, and if they kept having to buy this cheap sh*t they never would.

You know what they say though. You have to have money to save money. Something like that at least, Adam didn't bother listening to financial advice from corpos most of the time.

Or ever.

"Hestia-sama insisted that we spend some on it." Scrappy replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head again. Adam was beginning to notice a tic. "And the Hephaestus guide recommended we come down here when we told them our budget."

"You certainly have valis to spend! Did you end up taking out a loan from the Guild?" Guildmeat asked cheerfully, politely.

Adam snorted. "The stupidest thing you can ever do is be indebted. No."

"So… you didn't take out a loan…? You earned two-thousand valis in three days?" The guildmeat sounded more neutral. Scrappy flinched preemptively. Adam replied, adjusting the fit on his tax-jacket to suit his frame better.

"Seven thousand, two days." He rumbled out with a glare at the sleeves of this nonsense he was now wearing. "Real sh*t progress overall. We're aiming for three thousand today at minimum."

Guildmeat stared at him, reaching up to remove her glasses and wiping them off on a handkerchief before putting them back on. Then, her face twisted into a slight frown and stern glare. "...So how have you managed this?" She asked with a warning tone.

Three out of ten, actually try being intimidating next time. You look like an owl, dumbass.

"Killing monsters." The implied insult to her intelligence was obvious in his tone. "Do you not see the gore and full bags when we come back or do you not know how this Dungeon works?"

Her expression slowly turned apocalyptic. He ignored her. Finally done adjusting his taxgarb, he reached down to pick up the duffle bag and nodded his head towards the stairs down. "C'mon kid, we got meat to butcher. Remember, twelve hours."

Scrappy didn't follow immediately, but Adam wasn't worried. He'd catch up eventually. His footsteps, still bare of anything to cover them, carried him towards his new favorite place.

Note to self, buy socks and boots too.

The frustrated snarling behind him told Adam that the guildmeat finally lost self control. He almost laughed to himself as boots caught up with him and Scrappy shot him a reproachful stare.

"I wish you'd stop, she's just worried about our safety."

"We are paid murderers who delve into a bottomless hole filled with endless monsters for treasures and violence." Adam pointed out with a raised brow. "There is nothing safe about that, the concern from your girlfriend is absurd."

Scrappy didn't have an immediate rebuttal to that, so instead he muttered out a weak "She's not my girlfriend."

"Sure as sh*t acts like it. Might as well ask her out and make it official." He responded as they passed through the archway to the stairs below. He leaned down slightly and gave a mocking half-grin. "Might start getting a big smooch before and after every trip down, wouldn't you like that?"

Scrappy's face tinting slightly pink told him all he needed to know. Adam laughed as they descended.

"You're too casual about these kinds of things, Smasher-san."

"It's called being an adult, kid."

"You're barely older than me."

"And?"

Their chatting continued all the way down.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

The bag made the issue of looting disappear. It did not make the issue of cost to time ratios disappear. Kids and dogs gave twenty-five valis per kill, the lizards gave two-hundred. The exact reason behind this jump in price wasn't known to him, but that didn't actually matter either. They paid more for cores from monsters deeper down, which meant the logical answer was to go as deep as possible to slaughter until the bag was full.

A goblin's skull turned into paste as his fist passed through it. His hand grabbed the snout of the kobold behind. Stomping, he yanked it back through and swung. The kobold smashed into a small group of its fellows, all of which crashed back to slam against the dull-blue walls.

"Your meat fails you!"

Scrappy swung, larger blade cutting the feet off of a dog, causing it to fall with a strangled yelp. Then he twisted, moving into a stab against the goblin immediately behind the now-crippled dog. Then, he twisted in reverse, stepping back to move his sword into a downwards stab against the grounded dog. A swipe-thrust-thrust to eliminate two targets immediately in front of him.

Adam did that once an hour ago, except he used his legs and fists. Scrappy was still paying attention.

However, the issue with trying to go deeper was the enemies along the way. It was not just a matter of killing the good bounties, you also had to kill the chaff preventing you from going down as well as the chaff preventing you from going back up. This was old business to him. Arasaka sent him out to murder high-profile targets all the time, and those f*ckers were always behind neo-corporate fortresses brimming with walls, turrets, guards, and nethacks. Sometimes they even had the big guns ready for him.

They were never ready enough. He was Adam Smasher.

He backhanded a leaping child, shattering it's jaw and sending it tumbling to the side. The motion was carried, his leg shot up in a whip-like motion, and tore a dog in half at the waist. It didn't slow him down enough, he still needed to bleed off momentum. He carried the twist and hopped to swap what legs were on the ground.

His right foot stomped down, his left foot carried the weight of the accumulated rotation. It smashed through a dog's throat like a massive spear. Rotation negated. His left foot stomped down, his torso twisted and carried him into a straight right. Another green kid died.

"Less than human!"

Scrappy swiped twice, cutting off the fingers of another child, disabling it as a threat. Then, that vector of attack cut off, his sword swept again. Bladed edge carried through the open maw of a dog, cutting into the jaw and skull. The swipe pulled its way out of the skull, in time for Scrappy to smash the pommel into the face of another child. His gambeson absorbing blows and allowing him to attack through swiping claws without fear.

Finally using his armor properly. It took him a few hours to figure that bit out.

Still, the wear down and back up was something he was going to keep in mind. He didn't get as old as he was by being stupid about the capabilities of his targets, big or small. He would have to slaughter his way down, slaughter his targets until his bags were full, then slaughter his way back up for a payout. It reminded him of his warzone days.

Has he mentioned how much he loved this place already?

They had chosen their location carefully, a t-way intersection with walls they had already cleared out behind them. Slowly making their way through the third floor, Adam mentally mapping it's pathways as they ventured through it, slaughtering monsters and lizards whenever they found them. Of course, this period of peaceable exploration required for optimal murder later on was interrupted with a handful of meatbags running past them shouting apologies.

In the wake of these meatbags was a horde of monsters, clamoring and writhing with bloodthirst. He and Scrappy immediately started to run back to a more defensible location Adam had memorized, Scrappy explaining what had happened along the way. 'Pass Parade', an adventurer or group of adventurers has to run away from a fight, the Dungeon spawns more monsters along the way, and to escape they run past someone else. While the monsters kill their victim, they escape.

They were running away from children, dogs, and lizards. It was f*cking embarrasing to be in the same profession as those meatbags.

"Insignificant!"

Still, it was pretty helpful, if he was being honest. Because now he and the kid didn't even have to move to gain far more than they would in an hour of wandering. There was an army constantly pouring in from the non-depleted walls before them, and all the corpses made excellent tripping hazards.

So, a steady fighting retreat it was, moving back into already-depleted sections at a steady rate, killing everything that approached, and letting the corpses clog the path and slow everything behind them down. Five minutes of gradual slaughter later and all they were dealing with were the stragglers at the end.

At a certain point, it doesn't matter how many bodies the enemy throws at you. Especially not if those bodies can only come through three to five at a time and had absolutely no ranged weapons available to them. Adam was used to doing this against grunts with guns, children and animals weren't about to stand a chance.

Punch. Kick. Snap. Shatter. Crush. Smash. Kill. Gore painted his form, and the walls, and the floor, and the ceiling. Bodies clogged the halls. Monsters tripped over the slick killing field in effort to reach them. Monsters rushed into his fists and died. Yet more replaced them, fewer with each passing wave.

Overall, Adam liked the third floor. It was making a really good first impression on him.

"Why do you do that?" Scrappy asked, breathing heavy but stable as he cut down another child.

Adam rumbled inquisitively, turning a leaping lizard into red rain with a kick.

"The taunting. Monsters aren't really living things, so it doesn't really work on them, does it?" Scrappy pointed out. Thrust into slice cut down another dog.

Ah. That. "What kind of slaughter is complete without one-liners?" Adam asked rhetorically. "Have you ever seen a movie kid?" Lunging punch, impaling a dog. Teeth clamped down on his gauntlets uselessly.

"What's a movie?" Sweep into thrust into rising knee. A green corpse fell back to interrupt the charge of a dog.

He rumbled in annoyance. They wouldn't have those here, huh? "Theater?" Swiping claw grabbed, child swung, improvised club acquired. He used it to bludgeon dogs until the arm tore off.

"Oh yeah! Gramps took me to one once! It was a story about an Amazon Hero!" Scrappy chopped down hard, catching a lizard as it soared towards him. His weapon was stuck in the corpse. Adam stomped over once to cover more of the hallway and focused entirely on standing strikes until he got it out.

"Right, The hero. Did they say dramatic stuff during the fights?"

"Oh! You're talking about catchphrases! Gramps told me it was one of the three pillars of being a true hero!"

Adam rumbled in confirmation. "Right. Catchphrases, one-liners, etcetera. If you're not talking during the fight, that means you're completely focused on winning." Scrappy got the sword out, Adam let a spin-kick decapitate a child and carry him back into his spot again. "Means whatever you're killing is a threat to you. So, if you're taunting during a slaughter…?" He trailed off to let Scrappy answer.

"...It means-" Scrappy swung to sever another limb. "-That you know you can win with the handicap? That they aren't a threat to you?"

"Exactly." Adam punctuated his claim with another punch, impaling a lizard on his forearm. He narrowed his eyes as he felt the core against his hand. "It's not enough to kill weaklings like this."

He raised the lizard above him. Thrust his other hand inside.

And tore it in half above his head.

"You need to crush them." Gore spilled over him like a shower for an instant, before the corpse in his hands began to dissolve into scattering ash. A waxing grin and glare grew into full bloom on his face. The handful of straggler monsters at the end of the gore-slick hallway wisely started running at this point. He almost hurled the core in his hands to mulch one of their skulls before he remembered how valuable this was compared to them.

He let them go, they had more than enough corpses to butcher already and he wouldn't be able to catch up over the killing field. His meat screamed like a baby at the sustained effort. He ignored it and finished his impromptu lesson with a satisfied rumble and another rhetorical question.

"What the hell kind of 'hero' struggles against fodder?"

Note to self, start carrying around something he can throw. Letting meat get away left a bad taste in his mouth.

—

Floor three took most of their trip to full map, a trend he noticed with the second floor but now had enough evidence to confirm. The floors were progressively getting larger and larger the deeper they went. This made sense, and it was probably what allowed the Dungeon to sustain an entire city economy of murderers. Not murderers like him, because there were none like him, but in the same profession at least.

To his delight, they didn't manage to fill up his new bag at the end of the twelve hours. Its interior was at least two and a half cubic feet of space, and it could probably hold thousands of the tiny marble-sized cores that kids and dogs gave. The lizard cores were slightly larger, but still, probably hundreds. That was on top of the side-bags, six in total, each of which were about as big as Scrappy's fanny pack.

This was a high-quality bag, it was worth every theoretical cent he could've pried out of that bribe.

"You wanted a crossbow." Scrappy said during their trip up, both of them sufficiently soaked in gore and dripping. This let them have a wide berth from the meatbags heading down or up.

Adam blinked, glancing over at him and furrowing his brows. Scrappy continued. "You said to remind you to buy a crossbow."

Adam rumbled. "I did, didn't I? We'll see how much we get from this trip first. We got three-thousand from the kids and dogs alone, the lizards should be about eight and a half thousand, and I don't know how much the smiths will give for the drops."

"Heh. You had a gleam in your eye when you were counting the pass parade." Scrappy chuckled, sword resting on his shoulder. His normally white hair was currently dyed rusty, flaking red. Adam could feel his own hair was similar.

"You think we can hire meatbags to build one up for us every time?" Adam mused. First time they made anything approaching a decent wage, and it took three days and random chance for it to happen.

"Eh… I'm not sure about that." Scrappy laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "I always got told that no one wants to experience a pass parade."

"You're right. Most are probably too chickensh*t for it." Adam grunted unhappily. "We'll have to keep looking for the slaughters rather than it coming to us."

"You don't sound too unhappy about it!" Scrappy grinned at him. Adam scoffed in amusem*nt.

"I like to kill things."

"I can tell."

There were a few moments of silence after that.

"So we have enough money to go back to-"

"No."

"C'mon Adam! The pasta was really good! I promised Hestia-sama I'd bring some back for her to try next time!"

"Go alone."

"It's no fun alone! We're a familia! We need to go together!"

"No."

—

Adam was grinning on his way back to the church, a long shift of murder over, staring at their guild bank statement along the way. His new purchases on his belt, feet, and arm. At the end of the day, they had seventeen-thousand valis in the account. Nine-thousand of that went into buying three things. Leaving them at eight-thousand, a net increase from when the day started.

Socks and leather boots, finally covering his feet up with something. A belt-quiver and twenty bolts. And finally, a 'Pallum' crossbow. Adam didn't know what the f*ck a Pallum was, but he did know that this was the second-cheapest crossbow available and was designed to strap to his forearm and fire when he pulled a string attached to a ring on his ring finger.

Sure, he had to manually reload each shot, but the immediacy was favorable. It was almost like having a really sh*tty version of his old arm-mounted micro-missile launchers again. Except this only fired one at a time, and they didn't track targets, or explode on contact, or sheath themselves in his arm when he didn't need them.

But he had a weapon he could hit distant stragglers again! And he saw more expensive versions available for sale, and they were certainly tempting to look at. He asked for a catalogue, which they apparently didn't have, forcing him to explain the concept.

The child manning the storefront at 'Barry's Ballistas and Bolts' promised him that they would have a catalogue ready within a week after he finished explaining it, so he made a note to return there soon. He would probably need to return semi-frequently just to restock on bolts. At one-hundred and twenty-five valis per bolt, he'd need to kill five children or dogs, or one lizard, per bolt.

So probably not worth it to use too often, but the weight on his arm was a familiar and comfortable one.

"Hehehe~" Scrappy chuckled with mischief and anticipation, bringing Adam's attention away from his new weapon and towards the unfortunate present.

As they had a shared account, Adam had to make concessions for his new crossbow.

Standing in front of the Hostess of Fertility again, Adam was strongly considering whether or not the concession he made for a familiar weapon was worth the sacrifice. Frowning deeply, he glanced over to see Scrappy staring at him with waggling eyebrows, head nodded at the door.

All for the weapon, Adam. All for the weapon.

He growled as he opened the door again and gestured for the kid to step through. Following behind, Adam stepped into the wretched, overpriced diner.

"Hello! Two again? Nya~"

For the weapon.

"Yes please!" Scrappy cheerfully declared. "We made loads of valis today, so we're back to eat some more!"

"Wow! I'm sure Mama will be really happy to hear that! Nya~!" She raised her hands in a pawing motion at chest height. The catmeat had the audacity to glance at him. His smoldering antipathy was all that greeted her gaze.

"I am! No chef can complain when a customer is that happy to eat!" The apparent 'Mama', fortunately not a cat, called out from near the bar. A woman who looked to be in her early twenties, and thus far older than any of the teenagers that surrounded him, wearing an apron and hair tied back in a bun.

Her gaze came over him, and her features turned suspicious. "Hey now… Ain't you the punk that called my food overpriced?"

"It is." Adam grumbled out as they were being led to the bar stools. "Six hundred for a meal, three lizards. I could buy a hundred potatoes for that."

Mama scoffed confidently. "My food is well worth a hundred potatoes mister! The taste is what you come here for!"

"You don't eat because of taste, you eat because you have to." Adam countered, Scrappy and the catmeat watching the back and forth play out between. "I'd never eat again if the meat would stop complaining about it! I'm here because the kid wants to bring something back to our employer, nothing more."

"You're here because you wanted to buy a Pallum crossbow with the valis we earned today, so I asked you to come with me in exchange." Scrappy unfortunately chimed in. "It's no good to go out if your familia can't come with you!"

"You'd never eat again huh? I'll show you a meal you can't live without then, co*cky brat!" 'Mama' declared challengingly, leaning forwards. "Whaddya ordering?"

"Mama!" Catmeat complained with twitching ears.

"Alright, listen up cause I'm only explaining this once!" Adam leaned forwards, rising to the challenge and locking eyes with the apparent owner. "I'm ordering a deluxe cheeseburger, you know what that is? I'll tell you what it is!"

"A grilled ground beef patty, a slice of cheese, a leaf of lettuce, a slice of tomato, three pickle slices, and a sauce of choice! All between a sliced roll of baked bread and big enough that kids like Scrappy over there need both hands to hold it all! Paired with a side of potato sliced long and thin and fried and salted! You got that?!"

'Mama' glared into his eyes, her own irises blazing with confidence.

"Yeah… Yeah I got that. You sit your pretty ass down boy. I'm charging extra for this and it's gonna be worth every valis,yougot that?!" She growled low at him.

"We'll see about that!" Adam growled back, slowly descending down into his bar stool and crossing his arms in anticipation. The restaurant was mostly silent, staring in shock at the challenge issued.

'Mama' raised her handkerchief, and tied her hair back out of her eyes. "Anya… bring them some beers. Girls, ready my part of the kitchen. I got a brat to feed."

"Yes Mama!" Came the cry of at least six girlmeats from various parts of the store, all rushing to fulfill the order given to them. The restaurant was now filled with anticipated chattering, all quietly watching as the apparent master chef went to work, and disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen.

Adam stayed silent, turning around to half-lean against the counter. His legs and arms were crossed like a bored king on his resplendent throne, and his glare struck down whispers where it passed.

"...What's happening?" Scrappy muttered to himself, baffled at the turn of events.

"A clash of iron wills." One of the waitresses, one with light brown hair, whispered in reply.

"An unprecedented turn of events, I've never seen Mama worked up like that!" This time, a gray-haired waitress, sliding mugs of beer onto the table for the two of them.

Adam snatched it without looking, and drained exactly half in one long draw, setting it back down on the table again. Acceptable taste, not great and not awful.

"And now we wait." He declared, leaning back on his bar room throne with the arrogance of an aged suzerain. Win or lose, he won here. Either he'd get a good burger, or he'd prove his point. Victory was already his.

Hestia, Recently Descended Goddess of Hearth and Home, Jagamarukun Saleswoman

Going to her friend's office always reminded her of just how far she had to go to be a respectable goddess. She had descended to find a familia of her own, certainly, and wealth wasn't a requirement for family. But if she wasn't working as hard as she could to support them, how could she say that she cared about them? She couldn't go out and adventure for them, sure. That's not what Gods did.

But she could make sure they always had a home to come back to, and right now her home needed creature comforts! The basics were done. Warm hearth, roof overhead, and home cooked meals. But they were missing an entire bed and at least a dozen other very nice things that made a home homely.

Neither Bell-kun or Adam-kun seemed to care all that much, so she would have to care three times as much to make up for it!

Fifty times she had asked someone to join her familia, starting out. Fifty times she had been rejected. It was hard to live through that, but she had waited a thousand years to descend, she couldn't give up after a mere fifty rejections.

Then, she spied a boy with white hair, getting rejected for a familia. She was a little hesitant to approach, fifty one failures might've made her cry, so she hung back and watched him for a bit.

…N-not like that. She wasn't a stalker! She just followed him around and watched as he went about his day! Hestia shook her head, twintails whipping around and smacking into the wall behind her a few times.

No matter how you look at it, that's stalking isn't it!? Gah!

After watching him pick himself up again, and feeling that little void around him grow a little bit more with the rejection, she couldn't restrain herself. She moved forwards, introduced herself, and asked him if he wanted a familia. To her delight, the white-haired boy looking for a home took her hand with a wonderful smile.

She was bolstered! Invigorated! Awestruck! And life went on. The next day, she and her new child woke up in their new home and started the day together. It was just as great as she was imagining. Sure the home was a fixer-upper and they didn't have much… anything. But it was theirs!

…Theirs to rent, at least. They still needed to work to stay there, and Hep-chan was a stickler for 'doing things right'. So her newest child went to the Guild to register as an adventurer, and she went to her stand to barter delicious Jagamarukun away. The day went on as normal, her Jagamarukun selling to a few regulars and the occasional newcomer, and she was making a tidy profit, maybe enough to buy something nice for her new familia in a few weeks.

Then, a really sad soul walked up to her stand, dropped a bag of valis, and asked for all that it could afford. Tall and hungry-thin, with suspicious eyes and a foul mouth. Not even shoes on his feet.

The worst part was the feeling around him.

Gods had a sense for their domains, it was as natural to them as anything else. She didn't quite know how the others perceived it, but for her it was kinda like pressure. People and places with good homes and lots of love felt warm and weighty, like an old blanket wrapped around her. A warm draft that made her feel like her hair was being pushed back from all the love.

The human who just bought all her Jagamarukun felt like the exact opposite.

Like a cold, starving void. Like all the warmth and love in the world wouldn't be enough to fill the gap that was there. So cold that touch would sap all the heat from her fingertips, make her blood run away from it, and leave her shivering. Someone so cold they had partially frozen over.

Then he sat down, gruff and confused, and chomped through her Jagamarukun like he was starving. Barely even tasting it, just devouring it like the meal was going to be taken away if he left it alone too long. He didn't even know what a familia was.

So she asked him to join hers. This human absolutely needed a home, and she was more than motivated enough to offer. What else could she do?

When you see someone freezing, you put them in front of a warm hearth.

Ideally with some hot food and a warm blanket too, but she was still working on those other things. Her hugs would have to be three times as good to make up for it, despite how cutely he squirmed whenever she touched him.

It was also unfortunate that her newest child apparently didn't know how to take care of himself, because he had gotten his arms mangled and was completely silent with them. His stats were growing faster than Hep-chan offhandedly said what she was used to seeing, Bell's were too, but not like that Endurance stat.

You only build Endurance by enduring things. Pretty obvious, she supposed. Her second child was apparently enduring something really bad, and she had no idea what it was. It didn't even seem like he noticed, after living with it a long time. It was keeping her up at night, and she didn't know how to help.

So Hestia was here, waiting for Hep-chan to finish talking with someone so she could go in and dogeza until Hep-chan gave her advice. She twiddled her thumbs for a few minutes, kicking her feet back and forth in the really fancy waiting room.

…This room would be better with a nice fireplace, it would go right… right over there. With red bricks and a warm shade to it. That would bring a lot of life to it. Then maybe some potted plants over… there and there. Not something too high maintenance, but something that could bring a little natural scent in.

Finally the door opened, and she jolted up in her seat. Immediately adjusting herself to sit like a properly dignified goddess as the mortal gave an amused glance her way and moved along.

Following out of the corner of her eye, Hestia waited for the mortal to close the door leading into this waiting room.

The door clicked.

Hestia threw open the office door, throwing herself inside and forwards. Hands above her head, knees pressed together, and sliding across the floor until she was nearly in the center of the room.

A perfect bukkomi dogeza!

"Please give me advice, Hep-chan!" Hestia roared out, face planted in the floor, eyes burning with a fiery humbleness.

A long period of silence followed, shuffling papers, and a stare burning a hole into her head.

"...I told you to just enter normally, Hestia-chan." The mature and reliable voice of Hephaestus called out from behind her desk, sounding warmly weary of how Hestia had chosen to enter. "I'm pretty sure I told you that the last few times, in fact. You keep hurting yourself with it."

Indeed, Hestia's knees were now rubbed raw. But she was a grown woman, not a little kid, something on this level could never make her flinch!

Hestia flinched as she stood up from her position on the floor. Clapping her hands together, she bowed and asked again. "I need your help, senpai." On the other side of the desk sat her closest friend down here on the mortal plane, the Goddess of the Forge, Hephaestus. A serious and mature woman, with bold red hair and a large black eyepatch over one half of her face. It hid a messed up eye, so Hestia was careful to not be rude, but it definitely gave her friend a cool and mysterious look!

"What's that? That's gross. Don't do that." Hep-chan immediately followed up with furrowed brow and a comedic recoil. Her features smoothed over into a much warmer and relaxed look as she said the next lines. "Just sit down already, Hestia-chan. If it's just advice, I can definitely help."

Hestia moved over to the desk, and settled down into the chair. It was a pretty comfortable chair, if not very personal. It matched the rest of the room in a clinical way, aesthetically correct but a little too detached. Hep-chan's office had all the right stuff, but wasn't very home-y.

Hestia was careful to not mention that, because the last time she said something similar Hep-chan cried for thirty minutes about her 'inability as a woman' and then ate a bunch of ice cream.

Her friend was really sensitive about being single for so long.

Very seriously, Hestia pulled out the small stack of papers from where she was keeping them in her dress, in front of her stomach. Seven pages in total. Hep-chan deadpanned at the retrieval. Hestia continued with furrowed brows. "Please swear to keep all this a secret, Hep-chan. You told me how other gods play with mortals, I don't want that happening to my familia."

Hep-chan got a more serious look on her face, nodding her head and replying. "I swear to keep this a secret, Hestia-chan. None will learn it from me."

"It's about their Falna. Adam-kun specifically, but I have Bell's here as a comparison. You said that about five to twenty was the expected gain per update. Five to twenty in each stat right?"

"Aye. That sounds about right."

"Bell has been doing good then, here's his first update, see?" Hestia slid the paper across the desk, letting Hep-chan read it. She nodded expectantly. "And here's his second, then third, then fourth. All of it is about right, right?"

Hep-chan stared at the papers for a few moments, before furrowing her brow and checking a little calendar on the side of her desk. "Hestia-chan… How long ago did Bell join your familia?"

"Four days, why?"

Hephaestus stared at the papers in her hands for another few moments. "You've been updating once a day then, right?"

"Yeah." Hestia nodded in confirmation, confused about where this was going.

"Hestia… My familia is too big to update daily." Hephaestus looked up with a concerned face. "I update them according to a schedule, each person getting updated about once a month. They typically gain five to twenty points in each stat per month, not per day."

Hestia stared for a few moments, before swallowing. There were thirty days in a month…

She glanced down at the other papers in her hands, then back up and bit her lip. Hephaestus caught on immediately, lowering the papers in her hands and the look of concern deepening. "...Is there something wrong with your other familia member?"

"He started with a skill. Paradisus Sub Sole Rubro. All it said was 'unusual interactions with charm effects'. I don't know what it does." Hestia slowly began, handing over the first, mostly blank page. Hephaestus nodded along, looking at the zeros on the first page, showing that she understood.

"Not unheard of… He's human right? I think I remember Tsuba-chan complaining about him and one of my level 2s getting frisky." Hestia's face fell flat and she grunted unhappily. Hephaestrus continued. "It would be more typical if he was an Elf or Beastfolk. But humans sometimes start with unique skills too."

Hestia looked at the second page. With great reluctance, she slid it over. "This was his first update. First day in the Dungeon."

Hephaestus took the page, glanced at it, and immediately fell into a coughing fit. "S-sixty!" She struggled out, looking at the page as if it would change any moment, like her eye was lying to her.

"The others were only a bit better than Bell's, so I supposed it was experience. Adam has been fighting for at least five years but… but I suspect he was going to say fifteen instead." And he only looked so old, maybe twenty-one at the oldest. What kind of horrible place makes a child into a mercenary?

"Experience doesn't account for sixty points in one day, Hestia!" Hephaestus growled in that worried auntie kind of way she sometimes got. Hestia knew her face wasn't much better.

She slid the last paper across the table. "This was yesterday's update."

Hephaestus took the last paper with great reluctance, eye darting to the lone stat in question.

The office was silent for a very long time.

"I don't know what to do." Hestia declared, hands balling into fists and eyes watering. "You build endurance by enduring a lot, right? Adam-kun came back from the first day with his forearms all torn up! Skin hanging off of it like strips of ripped paper. He didn't even seem to notice! Then he got wrappings for his arms to protect them, and his endurance went up even faster the next day!"

"I-..." Hestia struggled. "My familia is suffering a lot right now, and I don't know why. I don't even know how or from what. Please, tell me you knowsomething…"

Hephaestus stared at the paper in her hands, before standing up, walking around the table, and hugging her.

Hestia fell into the hug and sobbed. Then she sobbed harder because now her tears were definitely ruining her friend's shirt. Hep-chan rubbed circles into her back until she was too tired to keep crying.

After a long time, Hephaestus spoke. "...It might be nothing, but…"

Hestia clung to her friend like a lifeline and stared into her eye with fiery desperation. Hephaestus, shirt ruffled and mostly ruined, slowly extracted herself from the hug and walked over to a bookshelf on the side of her office.

Hestia helped herself to the tissues on the table, trying her best to clean her face.

"This level of growth, aside from that endurance stat, isn't actually unprecedented you know? In fact, most of the gods who have been around for awhile know how to push their children to achieve it. It's called the Heracles Method."

"...Hera's Glory?" She asked, with furrowed brows. No matter how you looked at it, that was a euphemism for her boobs, wasn't it?

Hephaestus chuckled at that. "Zeus was the one to come up with it. The kid's name was Alcides, and Zeus practically raised the boy." She pulled a book from the shelf and walked back over. "Then the old lecher lost the right to give him a Falna in a bet, so Hera snatched him up for her own familia, and she doted on him immensely."

"When the kid hit level 2, Zeus joked that his name should be Heracles instead. None of Hera's threats were enough to dissuade the other gods, and Alcides thought it was a great idea, the big momma's boy he was. Then they decided to give embarrassing names to everyone else with a Falna just to be fair."

"Aliases…?" Her eyes widened in realization.

Hephaestus grinned. "It's where the tradition started, yeah. Round about eight hundred years back. When we were still figuring out how this Falna thing Ouranos suggested worked." Hep-chan slid the book across the desk, and Hestia took it up.

On the cover was a picture of a man, half aesthetic and half anatomical. One side flayed of skin to show the underlying muscle structure. Behind the man was the Hera's seal, the image of a queenly woman with a scepter of gold and a crown of flowers. At the bottom of the book was the title.

'The Heracles Method'

Hestia opened to the first page.

'Glory to Hera, Queen of all Gods.'

'I am Heracles-once-Alcides, a name the gods have granted me, a name I wear with pride. In my thirteen year of life, I have reached the second peak. My body swells with power, and yet I see no end of the mountains before me or the caverns below. I am not discouraged. I have decided to embark upon a quest for all men and women, for all peoples and races, for all mortals. I have decided to understand the truth of power, its pursuit, and the blessings that remain a mystery even to the gods. I do this, and I will share it with the world, that all may find their path easier than mine.'

'My master is the great lord of bow and fist. Chiron is his name, wisest and most just of the horse-eared-and-tailed men, and he has taught me the ways of vanquishing my enemies. He has taught me Toxovolía and Pankration, of striking and holding when near or far. He has taught me well, and as of writing this first chapter I have yet to surpass him. He assures me I shall in time.'

'With me are a variety of weapons, for I have discerned that it is foolish to only carry one. I carry a club of hard oak and olive, a sword and shield of brass and iron, and a bow of yew and ox-string. I am unfamiliar with the staff and spear, and shall refrain on speaking about them. The sling I have been told is the commoner's weapon, and so I shall refrain from speaking on it.'

Hestia looked up with furrowed brows. The page was dense with yet-more dialogues. "It's a journal?"

Hephaestus nodded with a fond, nostalgic smile. "It's a journal of his adventures, and his growth. Day by day, what he did, what he ate, what he considered or thought about. Everything. It was pretty important for figuring out how the Falnas worked, when everything was still so uncertain. I brought him up, because his growth was a little bit faster than your second familia member. At least, a bit faster in everything except endurance."

"His was faster?" Hestia felt a small amount of calm return to her. Except for endurance, the fact bounced around in her head miserably.

"Loki has one of those kids, Ais. She beat Heracles' old record as fastest to level 2 by a day. Heracles got it in a year and a day. Ais got it in one year flat." Hestia soured at the mention of her mischievous rival, knowing that her stupid head was probably unbearably swollen when that happened. "But no one has beat Heracles' overall record. He made it all the way to Level 12."

Each level was supposed to be harder to get, right? So… "Why haven't I heard about him…?"

Hep-chan got a dark look on her face. A dark and terribly sad look that Hestia found difficult to look at. "Turn to the last page."

Hestia nervously did so, and read out what was on it.

'Murder is natural.'

'Murder has been there from the beginning. From before the beginning. From before our souls were wrought in primordial fires. From before the blue-golds of kingdoms and clothing.'

'Murder is our oldest and greatest instinct. The roaring red-hands that dwell beneath civilized skins.'

'It makes us strong. It makes us wise. It makes us powerful.'

'I have peered beneath the skins of all things. Of monsters and beasts and men and gods. I have found only meat. The only gift I can give to it is death. My hands hold nothing else.'

'When I have finished writing this passage, I shall descend into Tartarus once more. I shall find the guardian of the gates in the lowest levels, three headed and spotted. I shall slay them, and achieve the thirteenth peak. I shall drag the corpse up in an iron cage, and heap it upon the mounds of dead I have already made.'

'It is not the final peak. There is no final peak.'

'The mountain is made of butchered meat.'

She didn't know how long she stared at that final line.

Only that eventually, Hephaestus spoke again, one eye dull and weary. "Don't tell anyone about that book. Every mortal who has read it has ended up the same way. There's a reason we no longer teach the second half."

She looked up, and stared with a dreadfully worried expression. Hephaestus stared back for a time, before forcing a smile onto her face.

"Hey now… Let's go out to eat. My treat."

Hestia slid the book onto the desk again, frowning at it heavily.

"I know a place." She replied. "My familia told me that the pasta was good. Hostess of Fertility."

"I'm familiar. Let me get a different shirt first." Hephaestus smiled reassuringly. "Any don't worry about it. If your child is growing fast, that just means they'll be able to handle their challenges easier. That's what our Grace is for, after all. Maybe just… make sure you don't tell the other gods about it. They'll try something stupid probably."

Hestia let her gaze trail down. "...Yeah. I'm hungry." She spoke, unsure of what to say.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

The diner was silent as the doors to the kitchen swung open once again, and the challenged one brought forth the platter. Fresh from the grill and assembly, warm with residual flame and fragrant. The aroma of the platter wafted across the bar and wet the mouths of the onlookers. A unique smell, a familiar array of ingredients arranged in a new and particular array. That alone would not be enough to draw such interest.

Nay. This was a new dish wrought by the veteran hands of a well-renowned expert at her craft. A new assemblage borne from pride and fire of one who's domain had been intruded upon, one who's authority had been challenged. A queen-beast that found a new animal in her territory, one that refused to pay her the proper respects. An arrogant and unbothered invader, seeing little cause to mind its actions in another's realm.

The interloper lazed at the bar, idly sipping upon the starter. A critical component in any working. All perspectives diverge, and thus, any who gaze upon art will find it suitable or unsuitable according to their prior biases. A fool's game to appeal to all without first setting the stage! Just as song begins with an opening or a story with a prologue, the starter is what allows the working to be more effective. The starter for a meal was the drink, to whet the appetite in specific ways and with specific flavors.

An individual meal might find any number of ratings, but a meal paired with a drink was far more consistent and effective! The interloper stared, nonplussed, as the tray was set before him. His drink had prepared him with its favor of fermented grain, he was ready for the main course.

Before him was a meal. All ingredients carefully selected, accounted for, and prepared according to all wisdom available to the beast-queen of this domain. For even if the meal was a foreign one, she was a veteran chef all the same! Flavors act together in specific ways, just as colors blend and allow a painter to know what hues work best.

A large bun of freshly-baked brioche bread, cut in half. Firm but soft crust, with a rich buttery crumb.

A leaf of common rakian lettuce, resting against the bottom half of the bun. Protection from the juices above. Slightly wilted and salted for taste.

A third-pound of ground beef, mixed by hand and with salt, pepper, and paprika. Still sizzling and warm from the grill and cooked as a rounded patty.

A topping of pepperjack cheese, melted on top as the patty was in the final stages of cooking. Practically drooling as the generous helping made its way down the side of the meat.

A dollop of mustard. A trio of cinnamon-pickled cucumbers. A meaty slice of rich red tomato. The necklace and jewels that adorned the foreign dish with rich heat and fullness.

Then, completing the circle, the other half of the brioche bun, sitting atop the rest of the meal as a king astride his horse. A mane to accompany the lion. A crown for the sovereign dish.

Surrounding this royal meal, his loyal soldiers. A whole potato, sliced into even and thin wedges, dipped in a uniform of batter and sprinkled in red spices like fresh blood. They stood in even rows around their king, and guarded him from all oncoming insult, crisp and ready to strike.

The interloper gazed down at the attempt to meet his challenge. He raised a royalty-defying brow. A well-practiced hand swooped low, taking hold of the kingly meal and raising it before him.

In his powerful hands, the meal had its measures taken. The aroma recorded, the texture committed, the sight weighed against internal records. The comparisons were noted, the material weighed against the ideal, and was yet to be found wanting.

Then, with manxome jaws, the interloper beheaded the king. The flesh was ground to meal, the lifeblood spilling, the regalia shattered. Royalty died in the hands of the invader.

Finally, after the long quiet of a fallen king had passed, the interloper spoke.

"Eh, good enough."

A tense silence returned like fog rolling in. The beast-queen gazed down with contemptuous eyes.

"Good enough?" She asked, with a tone that warned of dire consequences.

The interloper was unphased. "It's been years since I've had a burger, don't remember what the ones back home were supposed to taste like. This is good enough. How much do you want for it, four-fity?" He took another bite and gazed up at the territorial queen.

"Hmph." Mama Mia replied, putting a hand on her hip and tapping a finger on the countertop. "That ain't enough for me, prettyboy. You're the 'burger'-expert here, I want a detailed review now."

Adam chewed and swallowed, considering the question, staring at the burger briefly. "...It's sweet and spicy, I don't remember a normal burger being either. It's got a weird cinnamon taste to it, and the lettuce is flimsy. It feels like it's missing something, but I don't remember what."

"All in all, better than McDonalds. They had sh*t burgers." Adam raised a brow, and took another bite, staring at the chef and waiting. The chef stared at him for a moment, before huffing and crossing her arms.

"You're coming back, prettyboy, got that? And everytime you do you're gonna eat one of these and give me a review until I get them perfect, understood?" She stated her demands calmly.

"Pft. Hear that kid?" Adam called out with an amused tone, bringing Scrappys attention more directly to him. Scrappy lowered his own, smaller, mug and smacked his lips. "We better find one of pass parades every day before Mama f*ckhips here drains my wallet dry." He took a swig of his mug to watch the reactions.

Scrappy coughed and sputtered. The waitresses tripped, staggered, or fell entirely. Although none of them spilled any food or drink in their tumbles. The patrons, having since recovered from the tense quiet of earlier, returned to a shocked and astonished state.

Mama f*ckhips turned a mildly amused brow towards Scrappy with him, waiting for him to speak.

"I-I uhh… I think the one today was just luck. I really don't think we'll get someone giving us them consistently." Scrappy eventually replied, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck, head bowed in embarrassment from all the gazes upon him.

"You got hit with a pass parade huh?" The chef replied, turning her gaze back to him. "What level are you two, I don't think I've heard of any new level twos."

"Scrappy over there has been doing this for four days. I've been at it for three." Adam raised a hand, three fingers and thumb raised. Then he lowered a finger to count himself. Then, days counted, he took another tremendous bite of the burger in his hand.

She raised both brows. "...Mama f*ckhips? Awfully bold of a scrawny little level one." Her tone indicated that he should tread carefully. Adam's experience told him that being wimpy about it would be way more insulting.

"Stop fishing for compliments. You know what I said, f*ckhips." Adam growled through a mouthful of burger, annoyed.

She glared for a few moments, before snorting with laughter and giving a dismissive wave. "Try again when you hit level two, kid. You might be worth a damn by then. You're still cute and green. "

"I'm Adam Smasher, the best goddamn murderer on the planet." He declared with absolute certainty.

"You ain't sh*t but my personal taste tester right now, prettyboy. Maybe you'll make something of yourself in a few years. In the meantime, I expect your cute lil ass back here at least once a week." Mama f*ckhips declared back with equal conviction. "I think one of my kitty cats has a crush on you-"

"Mama, Nya!" A panicked and disapproving yowl came out. Adam let his antipathy for the catmeat smolder.

"So I'm leaving a bowl of food out to lure you in. I'll give you one 'burger' a week for free, but I want those reviews, got it? If I get it right it'll be another recipe in the book."

"H-hey Adam-san! You can't complain if the meal is free, right?" Scrappy finally worked up a spine and chimed in with a grin.

Adam chewed on the burger. Slowly, contemptuously, and consideringly. After some time considering the offer, he reached over and took a swig of the beer.

He glanced down at the plate, took up a few fries, and chomped down. Chewing slowly, he tasted the accompaniment for a moment, then swallowed. Opening his mouth-

"Fries with the burger, you have to pay for the beer." Mama f*ckhips interrupted, not even looking towards him as she dictated terms.

"Tch." Adam cut off. "Once a week then." He relented, taking another growling bite of the 'good enough' burger.

Scrappy, several of the waitresses, and several more of the eavesdropping patrons cheered in an exaggerated manner. He ignored them and began to wolf down the meal in earnest.

He wasn't about to turn down almost free food. This meat was constantly hungry. It was really annoying that way.

---

"Mah… You're completely fearless, huh Adam-san?" Scrappy questioned a while later, the two of them making their way back to the church after he finished eating. Scrappy carried an additional bag with him, filled with some manner of pasta dish for their employer. "I don't think I could talk like that to people I didn't know well."

"Why not?" Adam grunted, willing to indulge the kid in conversation as they made their way back to home base.

"I- I dunno. It feels like it might be a little rude, I suppose? I wouldn't want to insult anyone by accident."

"If I wanted to insult them, I'd insult them. Describing someone accurately ain't an insult." Adam replied, glancing at the lengthening shadows and a stray dog currently napping in an alleyway. He paused for a moment, then amended his statement. "Well, no. Sometimes it is, but if you can be accurate and still insult someone, they deserve it."

"Accuracy…? Y-you called her 'Mama f*ckhips'..." Scrappy replied with an uncertain tone.

"Was I wrong?" Adam rumbled in reply, an almost-grin aimed at Scrappy as he spoke.

Scrappy instead merely tinted pink and beat his fist against his chest, coughing exaggeratedly as he did so. Adam rumbled with amusem*nt as he did so.

"I dunno. Gramps used to warn me about being too honest with the ladies, he said that was a good way to get slapped." Scrappy scratched the back of his head. "He always said to be truthful! 'A real hero never lies!' he'd always say. But then he'd turn around and say 'we'll don't be too truthful all at once, girls get embarrassed about these kinds of things.'"

"What kind of bullsh*t is that? If a girl slaps you, slap her back." Adam grunted.

"I don't think I can do that." Bell deadpanned at him.

"Listen kid. What kind of idiot doesn't know that they're easy on the eyes? No one. No one is that stupid. Beautiful women know that they're beautiful. Chances are they're using it to get chickensh*ts to give them special treatment." Adam began dispensing yet another life lesson, remembering all the times he had seen this exact sh*t play out before.

"...I don't see how that follows, Adam-san." Scrappy replied.

"If you call a f*ckable girl f*ckable, and she gets mad, then she's either really stupid or trying to play you for a sucker." Adam concluded, then he amended. "Or you're ugly, at which point you're just f*cked. No one likes an ugly f*cker, so the best you can do is get rich and change your face."

"You can change your face if you're rich!?" Scrappy replied, astonished.

"Well you could back home. Not sure about here." Adam corrected again. "If you can't then… I guess you're stuck with prostitutes. The sex is the same but you have to pay up front."

"I think you might be a little distorted, Adam-san." Scrappy replied, voice somewhat flat and mildly amused.

"I'm too old to care about what all the meatbags around me think."

"You're barely older than me."

"And?"

A little while later, the two of them were back at the front of their home base. Broken windows and mossy rocks and all.

"We're back!" Scrappy called out cheerfully, only to be met with a silent church and a smoldering hearth. Adam looked about nonplussed as Scrappy called out again, this time his voice carrying a note of confusion. "Hestia-sama?"

Still, only silence greeted them. Adam grunted and shrugged off his bag, then shoved some of the remaining broken wooden furniture chunks into the fireplace to re-ignite it. It was going to be chilly later if he didn't do it now.

"Hestia-sama?" Scrappy called out again, investigating the various rooms, nooks, and crannies that were attached to the central chamber of the broken-down church.

"She's not here kid." Adam stated the obvious, building the fire up with the iron poker.

"Did she say she was going to stay out late?" Scrappy asked with a mild tone, a small frown on his face.

"Don't remember." Adam responded honestly, he wasn't really paying attention to what she said half the time. "She's a grown-ass woman, she'll be fine." So quiet down, your fretting is giving him a headache.

"Ah… You're right. She's our goddess after all, so I shouldn't be worried. She's probably just running late." Scrappy rationalized, rubbing his neck and sighing to himself.

Or she was kidnapped and being held for ransom, which meant he and Scrappy needed to kill some meatbags. Or she was dead, which meant he and Scrappy needed to kill some meatbags and find new employers. Or she was abandoning them, which meant he and Scrappy needed to find new employers.

Knowing that Scrappy would just fret more and make the headache worse, Adam didn't mention any of these possibilities. They'd probably need to stay awake at least a little while longer, to see if she was coming back tonight, which meant they needed to pass the time.

Let's see… pass the time productively…

"Oi, kid. Anyone ever teach you how to exercise?" He called out, a meaningful look at Scrappy's scrawny form.

"Hm? Oh that's like… chopping wood and clearing rocks right? Gramps had me doing that with him growing up, so I'm pretty exercised!" Scrappy called out enthusiastically, lifting an arm and patting it twice.

Adam stared blankly for a moment. Scrappy devolved into nervous chuckles.

"Eh… Is that not quite right…?"

Adam pushed himself up from his kneel in front of the fireplace, and pointed a thumb at the back door. "Alright, starting today we're exercising like they made us do in the army, every night after we get back from the Dungeon."

Scrappy followed obediently, asking a question along the way. "You were in an army? I thought you said you were a mercenary?"

"Both." Adam explained. "I was a…" He paused to find the right word. Did they have street gangs here? What was the nearest equivalent? "I was a bandit-brat as a little puke. Then the army came by and wiped most of us out. So then I was an army-boy for a few years until they kicked me out, so then I was a merc for a few years. Eventually I wound up here."

"I-..." Scrappy got a complicated look on his face. "I feel like I understand you a lot better, and also not at all."

Adam snorted. "It's not that complicated. Now c'mon, I'm going to show you how to do suicides."

"I don't think I want to kill myself." Scrappy took a step back and raised his hands.

"Don't worry, you don't actually die. You just feel like you do."

—

"I'm back! Sorry I'm late!" The voice of their employer called out as the door opened and she returned. Just like was presumed, she was merely running late it seemed. She was met with a lazy wave from his place on the nice hard floor. His breathing was steady but harder than it needed to be, reminding him that this body wasn't quite up to specs with his prime and that he needed to do these much more often.

Scrappy was too busy trying to get air back into his lungs to respond, laying on the floor and doing his best impression of a beached whale.

Tinytit* blinked at the scene before her, and tilted her head. "Ah… hard day in the Dungeon…?"

Adam snorted, amused. "Showed the kid how to exercise properly. He got about two-thirds of the way through one of my routines and collapsed."

"Hmm!" Tinytit* nodded with an understanding smile, nodding her head at their gear currently hung up to dry. "I see you have new armor!" She nodded vigorously at their increased ability to protect themselves.

He snorted. "Their armor is a scam. One thousand for sh*t that won't last longer than a week. Five-thousand for sh*t that doesn't cover jacksh*t. Ten-thousand for the barely adequate. Twenty-thousand for something actually worth a damn."

"Hmph!" Tinytit* set her own bag aside then turned a wagging finger at him. "It's not a scam if it means I get to see my children another day. So I'm really happy you got some, no matter how long it lasts."

Adam rolled his eyes, laying back down and basking in the heat of the fireplace. If she wanted them to waste their money like that, then he'd make sure to get every cent of value out of it. The cool stone floor and the warm hearth air created a comfortable flow of hot and cold in his body.

Scrappy wheezed something out that might've been a greeting.

Tinytit* walked over, and nudged them with her foot. "Now roll over, both of you. I need to update your status before you go to sleep, okay?" A warm smile on her face as she softly commanded them.

Grunting, Adam rolled over without qualm.

Grunting, Scrappy limply forced himself onto the other side. Tinytit* helpfully adjusted one of his arms out of the way of his body so he could lay down properly. That done, she began the little ritual of rubbing their backs to make magic words appear and doing hoodoo to their bodies.

All in all, a productive day.

—

Bell Cranel
Level 1

Basic Abilities
Strength - I28
Endurance - I31
Dexterity - I29
Agility - I30
Magic - I0

Abilities

Skills

Spells

—

Adam
Level 1

Basic Abilities
Strength - I42
Endurance - H199
Dexterity - I36
Agility - I40
Magic - I5

Abilities

Skills
Paradisus Sub Sole Rubro -Unusual Interactions with Charm Effects.

Spells

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

"Is… Is it a good idea to leave them alone?" Scrappy asked with a backwards glance at their home base. Shortstack had showed up to the church early that morning, a comically oversized bag on her back and ambitions in her eyes. She had been greeted by Tinytit*, with a smoldering gaze and a red-hot fire poker still in hand.

"Eh." Adam responded noncommittally and disinterested. By the time he and Scrappy left the building, the two women were still locked in a silent staring contest. Clearly communicating something to one another that Scrappy couldn't translate and Adam didn't care about. "They'll work it out. We have a job to do."

"...Hmm." Scrappy hummed with a note of worry, before turning back and resuming his walk. "So down to the fourth level today? I don't think anything new shows up until at least level five."

Adam furrowed his brows. "How do you know that? We haven't been down that far yet."

Scrappy smiled brightly. "I listened to Eina-san's complete 'new adventurer basics' lecture. It took three hours and gave me a really bad headache, but I learned lots during it."

Adam frowned and turned his gaze back towards the road, wordlessly grunting in reply. Scrappy kept talking. "The guild-advisor program is really useful. I've only attended a single session so far, and the next one is scheduled at the end of the week, but I don't think I would've been able to handle the early monsters without it."

"...Kids and dogs?" Adam drawled out, skeptical that anyone could die to those.

"Well… Maybe not goblins and kobolds, no. But something else down there probably. That pass parade would've totally gotten me if you weren't there!"

"So the info didn't actually help, you would've been dead either way."

"Eh… I… I don't have much evidence I suppose. I still think it's helpful, but maybe not quite yet." Scrappy sheepishly admitted, still holding to his belief even without much to support it. Lucky for the kid, his instincts were good. More information on the enemy was always useful. He thought the Guild Advisor was going to be some sort of financial bullsh*t, which is why he refused it.

Knowing that they were actually info-brokers on the specifics of the monster-shaped mining operation going on changed the calculus of that decision. It wasn't needed for the… "You said new targets show up on floor five?" He asked to confirm.

"Yeah! Frog shooters, war shadows, and killer ants! The last two are known as 'newbie killers', being a step above goblins and kobolds." Scrappy helpfully informed

Right so the guild advisor wasn't needed for the first four floors, so his ignoring of the service proved to be the correct decision in the short term. He needed more funds immediately, and wasting a few hours listening to info that wouldn't be important for days wasn't worth it then. He only knew that in hindsight though, it's entirely possible the 'newbie killers' would have some bullsh*t he wouldn't be ready for, so he needed to get an info-broker before going deeper.

"Remind me to sign up before we go to floor five kid, that should be within a day or two." Adam commanded, which Scrappy nodded and saluted at.

"Can do! We're clearing floor four today?" Scrapy asked, excitement at the coming slaughter in his eyes.

"First we're going back to the Pharma. We're almost out of healing potions." Indeed, they had gone through many in the last two days. Only had seven left. Everytime one of them suffered an injury that might slow their pace of murder and money-making, down went a flask. The rapid pace at which they were consumed wasn't sustainable in the long term, not until they got deeper into the dungeon and had better profits, but he was spending a dead meatbags coins so the early gains were more than worth the price.

The price being free. You have to spend money to make money, and all it cost Adam to get that bag of coins was a fun little strangulation session. Less than a minute of his time doing something entertaining.

…Hmm, maybe he should go back and strangle more meatbags in alleyways…?

No, it took a week to get a good mark the first time, and he and Scrappy were already making two thirds of that with a daily haul from the Murderpit. He'd get vastly better returns doing what he currently was, even assuming their daily wages didn't get any better than they currently were.

Which, from what he could tell, was fairly unlikely.

They had reached their first destination. He pushed open the door and walked in, heralded by the little jingling bell and followed by Scrappy. Making his way for the counter, he saw someone else standing there to greet them.

A female, with brown hair and light-purple eyes, wearing blue and yellow. The most notable thing about her were the accessories, dog ears and tail gently waving back and forth behind her. All in all, fairly uninteresting.

"Welcome to the Blue Pharmac-"

"What time do you close?" Adam interrupted, not really caring to hear the same greeting he got from the other one.

She blinked, and the patented customer service smile gently came to rest upon her face. "Around six in the evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Aren't we going to buy healing potions?" Scrappy asked him, confused.

"Wondering if we can swing by after our daily delves." Adam explained offhandedly, calculating times in his head. The sun rises at around six-thirty most places, they leave the church within thirty minutes, they spend twelve hours in the murderpit, therefore they get out at around…

"Seven." Adam grumbled. An hour too late. "We get out at around seven in the evening, no can do."

Now no longer caring, he moved onto the original goal. "Do you accept guild-backed promissory notes?" He had to make sure before they bought anything with it. They had a checking system, which Adam was familiar with but hadn't used in years, but he did remember that it was mostly useless.

"Only from registered familias." She replied with a polite smile.

"Good." Adam replied, pulling out the comparatively primitive checkbook that he had been given. He had asked for one the other day, when he started to notice the prices climbing above what could reasonably be carried on the smithing floors. "Brat, we go through an average of seven healing potions a day. That's forty-nine hundred valis if we buy off-stock again, and a bit more than half our current account. Sound good?"

"Sounds good to me!" Scrappy had really sh*t money-management skills, because Adam had to explain the difference between the familia and personal accounts the other day. As technically half of their decision making power, he had to make sure Scrappy was on board with any purchases made through the familia account. Not personal accounts though, that was all his to keep.

Not that he currently had money left in his personal account, he was spending it as it got it. Upgrades were not cheap and Adam had no intention on hoarding money when he could be getting better gear.

"Y-you want the off-stock?" Dogmeat asked with a slightly confused expression. "We normally have to throw it out, no one wants to drink it…"

"It works just as well and it's cheaper." Adam grunted, signing the promissory note for the calculated amount and handing it over. "What kind of dumbass wouldn't take it?"

Dogmeat took the note and looked at it, blinking once, before looking up and staring at his blank and slightly annoyed expression. She nodded slowly, putting the slip securely in a lockbox before moving to the back to retrieve his order. After a few moments, a distant sound of talking was heard from beyond the door, then footsteps and the door opening.

'Miach' stuck his head through the doorway, confirming their presence and walking over with a smile. "Well look at you two! It's only been a few days and you're already so equipped. Having success in the Dungeon?"

"You're a chatty one, huh?" Adam grumbled with a flat expression, looking at the familiar face. Potionmeat? Bluebag?

Prettyboy laughed at that, smiling as Scrappy gave an enthusiastic 'hello Miach-sama!'. "Just a bit, perhaps. But I'm serious, I see new boots, new armor, a new weapon, and now you're back for more potions? You two must be doing excellent!"

"You bet! We pulled in ten-thousand valis the other day!" Scrappy excitedly boasted.

"Ten-thousand? Already? Haven't you only been at this for a week now?" Blueboy gave an impressed hum at the figure.

"Four days." Adam corrected idly, leaning on the counter and letting the other two get into the swing of a conversation. "The pay is still garbage right now. We'll see if it improves on floor four."

Blueboy hummed again. "Four floors in four days… Mah, you two are something else entirely. Make sure you keep yourself safe down there, I'd advise running away if you meet something you can't handle, there's always next time after all."

"We haven't met something we couldn't handle yet! The armor has been a great help already, we didn't need to heal up as often." Scrappy rubbed the back of his neck again. A gesture he repeated constantly in conversations. It was almost bothersome enough to comment on.

"The armor is a goddamn scam, is what it is." Adam instead focused his ire on the pertinent subject. "One thousand for sh*t shirts that will only last a week down there. A f*cking waste of money for the returns we get on it."

"You're a very practical mortal, Smasher-san." Blueboy smiled at him in a familiar 'we're good friends' sorta way. Adam merely frowned in return. "I suppose it might be cheaper if you had a contracted smith, but the guild-gear will do if you don't. Armor that lasts a week is cheaper than seven healing potions a day, after all."

Adam ran the figures in his head for a few moments, before grunting and conceding the point. That was factually true, from his quick and dirty estimates. It still deeply annoyed him that this armor wasn't built to last.

Armor wasn't consumable, damnit. It was armor. It's supposed to last a long time.

"If you're looking to save valis…" the door opened and the Dogmeat came through, seven vials of the offstock carried between her gloved and ungloved hand. What's with the asymmetry meatbag? You trying to make a fashion statement? "Why not form a contract with the Miach familia?"

Blueboy made an 'ah' expression, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him yet. Scrappy blinked, not following.

Adam wasn't following either, but his experiences around the word 'contract' told him to narrow his eyes and pay close attention. "Elaborate." He demanded. Dogmeat blinked at the sudden focus on her, but Blueboy was the first to speak up.

"Normally monster drops are sold by adventurers to the guild, and then crafting-focused familias buy those drops and make goods from them, which are then sold to adventurers. But if you cut out the middle-man of the guild…"

"The adventurer gets paid more or cheaper goods, and the makers get more overall profit." Adam finished, understanding the deal now. Before that though… "Potions are made from drops?"

"Hm? Oh yes. Most drops can be turned into a few things. I can name five from goblin claws alone." Blueboy explained with a casual shrug. "We use Blue Papilio wings… er, a type of blue butterfly that can heal other monsters, to make the healing potions. One wing is enough to make a whole cauldron worth of stock. If you were to bring some back, we could sell you those at a discount and still make a good profit."

Blueboy smiled and tilted his head, holding out a hand. Dogmeat stood slightly behind him, tail wagging and expression blank. "No need to make it a formal contract, but if you bring the ingredients back, I'll be happy to give a discount. What do you say?"

Adam exchanged a glance with Scrappy, nodded firmly, then reached forwards to take Blueboy's hand. "You have a catalogue for me to look through?"

Blueboy blinked. "Catalogue?'

Adam groaned, and went through the motions of explaining what convenient sales practice was.

---

The fourth floor, as it turned out, was exactly the same as the third, second, and first floors. Fairly wide and tall hallways, a blue tint to everything, mild temperatures, and populated entirely by kids, dogs, and lizards. Each general section of wall could spawn anywhere from one to six waves of the things before its color shifted, each monster was weak enough, slow enough, and stupid enough that they weren't a threat unless he somehow fell asleep on the job.

Monsters traveled in groups no smaller than three and no larger than seven, but sounds of fighting could lure more of the things from other sections of the floors. Each one approached to attack in direct and obvious manners, and each one died in one solid hit. The kids and dogs didn't sell for much, but the lizards definitely did, so those were collected as first priority.

As with the previous floors, he took to mapping and memorizing this one as well. By always taking the rightmost path, he would eventually travel down every section of the maze-like configuration barring some hidden door bullsh*t or a completely disconnected section. In this way, he could slowly assemble a mental tactical map of the region full of chokepoints and regions he could potentially take advantage of when required.

He made a note to start actually drawing these maps once he had some paper and something to write with, might be useful for the brat to study.

The meanest trick the murderpit had yet tried to pull was spawning simultaneous waves in front of and behind them as they dealt with a prior wave. He said meanest and not mean, because flanking was honestly amatuer hour and expected when invading a hostile fortress. He was frankly unimpressed with the level of fortifications. No ranged attackers, no access tunnels, no traps, no ambush sites, no environmental effects, no gas attacks, no false routes, no shifting walls…

The top four floors were a cakewalk, and he was hoping that would change as he got lower. As it currently stood, the 'Dungeon' was boring him.

It did, however, give him ample time to practice a technique he had thought up the other day. Only practicing on kids and dogs thus far, because the lizards were actually valuable enough to not risk this early on.

"GNNNAAA!!! The dog screamed, a distinctly un-doglike thing to do, as it leaped forwards at him.

He stomped, one leg forwards. His torso twisted. His shoulders traced the outline of a partial spiral. His hand was arranged in a claw-like fashion, fingers pressed firmly together, and armshaking.

The claw tore through the flesh and blood like it wasn't there. Parting skin and muscle like particularly warm butter. He entered through the abdomen of the dog, right below the ribcage.

His fingers brushed something smooth as they moved deeper within. He splayed them slightly wider as they did.

Now was the hard part. His fingers came closed. His brow furrowed in concentration.

His handtwisted. The dog screamed in aggressive panic, short limbs clawing at his armored arms. It's reach was too sh*t to actually hurt him.

He twisted the other way, and in the same motion, ripped his arm out.

The dog turned to ash as he did so, which was expected. The trickier part was…

He stepped back and raised his fist, closed around what was a handful of gore, but now only held a single marble-sized core. He opened his hand, rolled the core to hold between his fingers, and raised it for inspection.

"...Did you get it this time?" Scrappy asked, ripping through one of the bodies to extract a core, sending a question and glance his way.

Adam took a long look at the core, inspecting it from every angle he could, searching for the tell-tale signs of damage.

After a moment, he grinned, and tossed it towards the kid. "Take a look for yourself." Said kid caught the core, smiling, and inspected it too.

He had started practicing the technique on corpses, trying to pull out cores quicker so he could get a move on. That took maybe a dozen attempts to get it right and prove that it could be done. After he managed that, Adam got an idea.

What if he turned the killing and butchering into one action?

So next he started practicing on live targets. It took him a dozen or so dogs and kids to figure out the angle and motions involved when the target was moving. The first few times he tried it, the core just broke as his fist went through. The next few times, the core broke as he pulled it out. Then it cracked a few times afterwards, leading to this final attempt.

Scrappy grinned at him, holding a completely undamaged core up. "I think you got it, Senpai! I don't see any cracks on this one! That's definitely going to speed up our progress!"

Adam rumbled in satisfaction. "Damn right it will. We're making at least five thousand today, got it kid?" He moved to the pile of corpses as he spoke, pulling one off the pile and setting it up for his newest trick.

"Can do!" Scrappy cheered, knife slicing open a diaphragm and sticking his fist inside. He wasn't doing it quite as fast as Adam was, but the same angle of approach was making it far faster than before.

Adam thrust his hand forwards.

His hand closed around a specific chunk of flesh.

His fingers closed, hand twisted back and forth, and he ripped his arm out.

The corpse turned to ash as the core was left completely unharmed in his hands.

Now all that was left was to practice it more, see if he can make the motion faster. It was still pretty slow at the moment. He'd also start practicing on lizards, to see if he could do the same for them.

Just, more carefully compared to the kids and dogs. The lizards were worth eight times as much and wasting that many valis wasn't his idea of a good time.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

Unfortunately, they didn't make quite as much today as he was hoping to, what with them staying on the fourth floor and not getting another pass parade this time. They had reached their goal of five thousand and even surpassed it!

Barely. Six-thousand six-hundred valis in total, split into three accounts. He stared at the Guild receipt in his hands with a general sense of dissatisfaction and contempt, frowning at the number he knew many minutes in advance would be on the page, but still unpleasant to look at. Yesterday they had made seventeen-thousand, and today they were scraping around a third of that.

Forty-eight hundred from twenty-four lizards, eighteen hundred from seventy-two kids and dogs.

The issue was, more than anything else, that the monsters didn't spawn fast enough. Precious minutes and seconds burning away as they moved through the winding passages without anything to kill. Occasionally they'd spot another group of meatbags, and Scrappy would shout out 'need some help?'

Adam was planning on demanding half of whatever group of monsters they ended up killing from whatever group accepted, by so far none had.

They had yet to sell the drops, which might pull in a greater profit, and now that he was starting to track those he had noticed something.

"Your luck is way better, kid." Adam spoke, holding up the sole drop item he had gotten in the entire delve, a fist-sized chunk of random ore pulled from a lizard's ass as he tore it open. He glanced over again at Scrappy, sheepishly holding up a small handful of various creature-scraps carried in an annoyingly squarish section of dog-leather. Two claws, a fang, and what he was reasonably certain was a kidney-stone.

"Ehe… Sorry?" Scrappy half-apologized, half-questioned.

"Don't be. More loot is more loot." Adam grumbled the apology away. Now they could go back and see if either Blueboy or Shortstack wanted these, but he had something to do, and sending Scrappy alone with them was asking fortune to rob them. Anyone who hoped luck wouldn't f*ck them over was wrong and stupid. So the correct decision was probably…

He handed the ore over to Scrappy, who took it with a blink. "Take that up to the smiths to sell, then do whatever you want for the rest of the day. I'll be pumping the Guildmeats for info until they kick me out."

Scrappy hummed. "Don't we want to take this to Miach-sama or Bruni-san first, to see what they can make with it?"

"We don't know if what they can make is what we want and holding onto loot is asking to get robbed."

"Ah! I see." Scrappy nodded. "Best to make sure we get something out of it instead of nothing."

Adam grunted in affirmative, and Scrappy continued. "Alright, I'll go sell these. Make sure you pace yourself, senpai, those lectures are a lot to take in!"

Adam waved the kid off, who got the hint, stuffed the drops into his side-bag, and made his way to the elevator. Watching him go to make sure he wasn't about to get robbed the moment he glanced away, Scrappy reached the elevator, asked politely to go up, and disappeared into a higher floor of the Tower.

Nodding in satisfaction, Adam turned his gaze towards the Guildmeat on the other side of the countertop. He stood with the light to his back, casting his face in shadows.

Scrappy's girlfriend waited patiently, fingers folded and hiding her mouth behind them. Noticing his attention on her, she raised her head slightly, causing a white glare to flash over her glasses and preventing him from seeing the pupils behind.

He was pretty sure he had seen this trope before. It was rather stale if he was being honest.

He maintained the facedown patiently, backing down wasn't in his style. The guildmeat put up a valiant defense against his glare. Eventually he lost patience, and simply moved along with the conversation. "Oi, Guildmeat."

She said nothing, merely waiting with fingers folded.

…Oh, that was her game huh? Adam had gotten a whole lot of practice with this against uppity executives that thought their last name was Arasaka.

"Scrappy's Girlfriend." He tried again with a redoubled glare and a grumble.

Her ears twitched violently and her face tinted pink. Still, her glasses remained glared-out and fingers folded. He leaned forwards, planting a hand on the countertop, and spoke bluntly.

"I didn't bother remembering your name, meatbag." Adam lied as easily as he breathed. Speaking with a smooth drawl and an unbothered loathing. "Either help or don't, we're going down to the fifth floor tomorrow."

She maintained her composure for a few moments. One ear twitched.

"...tch." she quietly muttered.

Victory.

"So you come to the Guild now, after so thoroughly rejecting our advice and wisdom for days? Have you realized the value in preparation while fighting desperately in the deeps of the Dungeon?" She began a long winded speech, which Adam cut off immediately.

"I've been fighting and killing since before I hit puberty. I know more about battlefield prep than most in this city, girlie." He bluntly replied with a glower and a rumble. "Look, I want tacticals here. Maps, enemies, known weaknesses and strengths, expected spawn rates, priority targets."

He leaned back and waved his hands back and forth on either side of his head. "I don't need fresh-faced greenhorn tips like 'try not to get surrounded' and 'healing potions are useful, buy some just in case!'." He spoke those theoretical tips with a false cheeriness that belied his disdain for such obvious bullsh*t. He turned his ever-present glare back to the guildmeat and finished his reply. "Scrappy is a farmboy, he needs to be told obvious sh*t like that. I'm a mercenary, I've been doing this murdering sh*t for awhile now."

"Now, can you get the f*cking dramatics out of the way and stop wasting time for the both of us?"

Guildmeat stared at him for a few moments, before slumping and sighing. Then, pushing herself up from her chair and walking through a door on the side, she replied with a dull tone. "Follow me please.

That was more f*cking like it. You're a bureaucrat, stop pretending like you have a soul.

The room she led him to was decently spacious, but more importantly, absolutely filled with maps, bookshelves, notes, and more. All useful learning aids and references if he was able to read any of it. As it stood, he would have to rely on verbal reading and reference images.

She moved to one side of a table, collecting a few large sheets of paper and clips, mounting some of the sheets on a plank shelf-like thing for a few moments. Looking at the pyramid-like diagram, he quickly realized that it was a visual representation of the murderpit, subdivided into floors and estimated locations and sizes. Judging from the small looking tower on top of the diagram, the murderpit got nice and big the further down you went.

Each of the floors was given a label, then a category label, then some other label that he didn't recognize. She clipped a few more pages to the board, mounting them for visibility. From what he could tell, a general overview of the dungeon itself on three large sheets of parchment. Then she moved to another section of the room, opening a drawer and pulling out several rolls of map-like parchment. Unfurling them onto the table and setting small weights at the corners, they were indeed revealed to be maps of the upper floors.

The first scroll was able to hold the first four layers, each top-down map view getting progressively bigger in accordance with his one mental mapping thus far. The next scroll contained three maps, each subdivided into sections in order to fit, of what he assumed were the fifth, sixth, and seventh floors. The second-to-last map contained two map-diagrams, divided into even more sections to fit on the roll of paper.

The last map only managed to fit a single diagram, broken up into many smaller chunks in order to fit on the scroll.

Guildmeat moved again, retrieving a weighty tome and setting it on the table. Turning to look at him with a blank eye, she spoke tonelessly and politely. "Here is all the general information available on the first ten floors of the Dungeon. I will have to observe you to ensure no damage is done to these copies, but you may read it at your leisure."

Adam grunted, staring at the maps for a second.

"I can't read this sh*tty language." He rumbled with loathing for the script.

She blinked, ears tilting downwards briefly. "Y-you can't read Koine?" There was a strange note in her tone, he ignored it.

"Look at it, the worst goddamn writing I've ever seen in my life." He grumbled. "It looks like a group of toddlers had a scribbling contest." He gestured with his hand. "You got something to write with, and on?"

She moved to provide him with such a blank page and a… pen? It had a f*cked up tip. He looked at it blankly for a few moments.

"...Do you know how to use a pe-"

"I know how to use a f*cking pen. This ain't a f*cking pen. I don't know what the f*ck you call it but it ain't a pen." He waved it at her with a glare. Her brows furrowed and she opened her mouth to reply…

Then closed it, moving over to grab something else and handing it to him. Something that looked like one of those old-ass pencils. He could use it, at least.

Grumbling, he started writing on a page. Decades of practice forced into him by Kagekaze and working for old man Arasaka, neither of whom accepted sloppy handwriting. Real pain in his ass, but he could deal with it. Pausing for a moment, thinking about what to write…

He grunted and just defaulted to an old song.

'You look like an angel'
'Walk like an angel'
'Talk like an angel'
'But I got wise'
'You're the Devil in Disguise'

Ain't nothing wrong with listening to the King from time to time. He used to be a big fan back in the day, wore his hair in a pompadour and went around in black leather, and all that.

Then, he wrote the same lines, this time in Japanese. The weak-ass graphite in the pencil breaking on him once in the middle of it, causing him to growl and mentally threaten to kill its family before finishing his writing.

Raising the sheet aggressively, he pointed at the page and snarled out. "This is what proper f*cking writing looks like, not that garbage this whole f*cking city seems insistent on using. Look at how those letters connect, look at how nice and compact they are. They don't randomly spill off half the f*cking page or have random floating lines, now do they?"

She took the page in hands, staring at it for a moment and brows furrowing. "Y-you look like an angel…?"

He stared at her for a moment.

Then he leaned forwards, she glanced up and flinched back.

His furiously smoldering glare greeted her eyes.

"You can read it." It was not a question.

"I-b-barely." She replied, leaning back and holding the page up to defend herself. "It looks like a very bizarre regional dialect of Koine. It seems like it had been altered for some reason, but I'd have to bring it to a language expert to speculate on the s-specific differences."

He stared. "Write the page in 'Koine'." A demand.

She moved around him gingerly, setting the page down on the table and using the sh*tty pencil to write. He carefully observed as she did so, staring at the page.

Before his eyes, she wrote yet more gibberish. He stared at it for another few moments.

Same number of letters per word-block. Same sentence length. Same format.

He leaned forwards. "What the goddamn…?"

The 'Y' looked like an x on top of an I. The 'K' was an E. The 'A' was a d without the tail. The entire script looked like someone took English and mangled it for absolutely no reason. Almost every letter was f*cked up in any number of tiny ways, the end result being essentially impossible to recognize from the base script at first glance…

…

He knew the reason.

It's because that makes it look 'exotic' and 'unique' without actually making a new language.

The most lazy-ass bullsh*t he had seen in awhile, and it made him think he couldn't read.

His nails scratched long lines in the hardwood table as he stared at the page before him.

"...Smasher-san…" Guildmeat questioned lightly.

He closed his eyes, and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

"Information. Monsters. Fifth floor onwards. Skip Goblins, Kobolds, and Lizards." He calmly replied, going to the tried and true tactic of carefully storing his rage for later. That was useful in a fight, less useful when preparing for future fights. It was something that he had quite a lot of practice doing, back when he had his nice warframe on instead of this weakass meat.

He was quite done being emotive for the day. He was returning to a comfortable, robotic, malice.

Guildmeat coughed once, opened the book to a specific page, and began talking. On the page, a lanky figure with three clawed-arms was depicted.

"War Shadows are the most important monster to keep in mind when planning to delve into floors five or six, where they natively spawn. One of the two monsters commonly referred to as 'newbie killers', War Shadows are noted for their speed, both in reactions and overland travel…

—

Eventually, the Guildmeat's shift have ended, forcing his little learning session to come to an end for the day. Guildmeat started to rub at her throat occasionally about halfway through the lecture, and he had started to decode the infuriating script that they used from looking at the various pages of notes and explanations. He didn't have it mastered yet, but he would soon.

As soon as the briefing was forced to end, he made his way down to the Dungeon staircase again. There were two new monsters on the fifth and sixth floor, and they were indeed all that spawned there. Frog Shooters, which were apparently massive frogs with spike-like horns on the end of their tongues, and War Shadows, which were lanky, fast, and had knives for hands.

More importantly, they were known as 'newbie killers' for their combination of blades for hands and apparent speed. Scrappy was absolutely a f*cking newbie, even if he was willing to put forth the effort.

Losing an asset this early on to a fluke would be an issue for his long term gains. Unacceptable.

So he was going to go murder a few War Shadows to verify their general parameters and capabilities first, make sure Scrappy could handle one with his current equipment, and if not, see if Scrappy could handle one with better equipment that was currently within their price range.

Information was Ammunition.

Stepping through the first doorway into the first floor of the dungeon, mental map reinforced by the tactical map he had just recently seen, he took note of a trend he had noticed as he was descending.

The route down each floor, for the first few floors, was exactly the same length in overall distance required to travel.

A dog, he crushed its skull.

The average meatbag's sprinting pace was about ten miles per hour. He had grown very familiar with that figure in his cleaner jobs. Knowing exactly how fast something was moving let him pull all kinds of neat tricks, like blowing off their legs through a few walls of concrete with a decent-sized railgun.

Ten miles per hour. One mile per six minutes.

A pair of kids, he smashed them into the walls.

The route from the start of the first floor to the start of the second floor was exactly six minutes. It involved a winding path around various sections for the optimal path down, so the actual travel distance wasn't a full mile unless stretched out straight.

The optimal route from the start of the second floor to the start of the third floor? Six minutes almost on the dot at standard meatbag sprinting pace.

The optimal route from the start of the third floor to the start of the fourth floor? Six minutes.

A lizard, he tore out its core and tossed it in the bag, corpse turning to ash in his wake.

And now, map of the fourth floor burned into memory both from personal experience and guild record, he was about to time the route and confirm a suspicion. From his hunch, looking at the distances involved?

Six minutes.

A group of dogs, thirty five seconds wasted on butchering them.

He kept his breathing nice and steady, and forced himself to run at that speed. Exactly ten miles per hour. You got a sense for these sorts of things as a borg, being able to run as fast as you wanted for as long as you wanted, up to your top speed.

Meat frames tired in a way borg frames didn't, but Adam wasn't about to accept any kind of weakness of his personal meatframe. It was going to keep up with him or he was going to have to drag it along, either was fine by his standards. It would get with the program eventually.

His pace slowed comfortably as he approached the next set of stairs. His lungs were complaining as he settled into a walk towards them.

A green kid leapt at him as he rounded the corner. An absentminded backhand shattered its face.

Accounting for the time lost to the dogs? Six minutes, give or take ten seconds. A consistent pattern. It wasn't particularly useful information, but he remembered it regardless. He didn't remember seeing it anywhere in the Guild notes, but that might be because he could still only barely read their sh*tty writing.

Enough wasting time.

He started moving down the stairs to the fifth floor.

Time to find himself a 'War Shadow'.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

He didn't manage to find one of the War Shadows immediately, to his displeasure. Instead, the first new type of meat to butcher was the other ones, the supposed 'Frog Shooter'. That being a stupid name that he wasn't going to bother thinking of, instead he was simply going to call them what they were, Frogclops. Monofrogs?

…Frogs. He was going to stick with frogs. Call it what it was.

They were rather impressively large, with a single beady eye roughly the size of his head glaring at him from atop a squat amphibian form. Their skins came in a number of various ugly colors, their croaking echoed through the faint green tinge of this section of the dungeon, and they hopped around as normally frogs might.

Well, not quite as impressive as normal frogs, these fat*sses could manage about a meter and not much more. What was slightly more impressive were their tongues.

His fingers closed around the end of the long pink tendril, a disgusting long-muscle covered in a somewhat adhesive mucus and capped with a bizarrely tough end. Reflexively, the frog attempted to pull its tongue back.

Adam hopped as it did, and angled his body, pulling the tongue even as it pulled him.

Hisshakinglegs turned the frog's skull into a spray of gore, painting the wall behind it with a lovely mixture of reds and pinks. His boots landed on the floor, catching himself as he descended once more.

The tongues were strong, yes. They were covered in a sticky mucus, yes. But their method of attack did not involve pulling people in to bite them. The end of the tongue was capped in a cartilage-like structure that smashed into his raised gauntlets earlier like a meatbag giving his best haymaker.

It wasn't enough to shake his guard, Adam had been in too many brawls for that, but it did almost make him stumble. For that, he spent the next few minutes carefully observing the new monster, measuring how long it took to shoot its tongue out, how far the tongue could go, how fast the frog could turn and reposition.

A few other frogs came by, but he quickly annihilated them and returned to his observations of the first monster.

Then, observations finished and parameters measured to his satisfaction, he smashed it. They weren't terribly strong, but they might cause trouble if too many grouped up at once. By that same virtue though, he could easily use their attacks to quickly reposition, so ultimately they were probably more helpful than hindering when being surrounded.

That noted, he kicked over the corpse, putting it on its back, and raised his right hand. Knife-like, his shaking hand came down on the corpse, splitting a groove open in the sternum and letting him get to work ripping it apart.

Before he could rip the stones out with the faster method, he needed to find out where they actually were. Mildly entertaining drudgery, as his fingers dug into semi-interesting frog meat and tore it apart, looking for the pearl of future financial compensation inside.

It wasn't like human meat, not quite. There wasn't much more to note than that. Meat was meat, and it all died the same. Flesh and skin tore, the sound echoed through the otherwise silent section of the dungeon.

Eventually, he found the thing he was seeking, fingers closing around a small warm marble, twisting one way, then the other, then pulling it out. The corpse turned to ash as he inspected the rock in his hand. Nodding in satisfaction, he reached over his shoulder to slip into his bag and moved on to the next corpse, sinking his fingers in again and racing himself to reach the core faster.

Last time, he found he right about…
The sound of flesh tearing and gore spilling echoed through the halls.

Here it was. He tore it out, inspecting the pearl, and slipping it into the bag. Standing up, walking over to the next corpse, he knelt down and repeated the process. He was pretty sure the core was right here.

His fingers dug into the corpse.

He paused.

The sound didn't echo.

He threw himself to the side as a dark figure passed through the space where he just was, talons extended and moving through where his head just was. A small smile grew on his face as he rolled once through frog-gore and bounced up into a ready position, hands readied in front of him and eyes darting about.

Nice try meat. You almost snuck up on him.

A lanky entity silently pulled itself up from where it had crashed into the stone wall, turning a blank mask-like face in his direction and bending limbs into a burst-motion stance. Almost as tall as he was, with an utterly pitch-black body and legs that tapered off into points.

Poor design, those wouldn't aid it in any kind of balancing, no wonder it crashed into the wall. It would do better on softer terrain, but stone floors helped it none.

He began circling the Shadow, watching it as it stilt-like stepped in time to circle him as well. Trying to set him up for an ambush by friends? It was too brightly lit and his ears were sharpened right now, that wouldn't work meat.

It moved with deliberate pacing. Furrowing his brows. He stopped.

The Shadow stopped, claws still ready before it.

He stepped again, the Shadow followed his timing to the moment, even if its stance was off due to compensating for those lacking feet of its. The shademeat was mimicking him.

Was that their gimmick? He was almost disappointed. Sure the monkey-see, monkey-do sh*t would work on teenagers, but he was a little too older for this nonsense.

He pretended to drop his guard, letting his arms fall and looking to the side with a bored expression.

The shademeat, proving it was stupid, immediately leapt on the opportunity by attempting to leap at him, claws ready to strike and aimed at his throat. Credit where credit was due, it was faster than the kids and dogs. Not by much, but faster still.

Unfortunately for its hopes and dreams of splaying his throat open, he was wearing gauntlets.

He caught the knife-like hands in grips clad in steel, fingers interlocking and hands tightening in an attempt to crush each other. He measured its strength for a moment, and found a disappointing fact.

The thing was weaker than the lizards were.

He applied pressure. Its hands started to bend backwards, then its arms, then it was forced to its knees as he brought it down. Mr knife-hands was relying entirely on being fast and hitting teenagers who weren't wearing proper armor, it seemed, because something like this wasn't any more lethal than a drunk man with a kitchen knife.

Newbie killer his ass. Speaking of…

He stepped to the side and twisted around, throwing his arms up and bringing the pained shadow with it.

The second shadow, thinking it was being sneaky, found its claws sinking into the flesh of its friend. He dropped the first one, letting the second be dragged down with it, before raising his boot.

And stomping the shadows flat, shattering the white masks through the back of their skulls.

Annoyingly, they didn't bleed either. They just collapsed into bizarre dark goo, kinda like thickening coal tar. He stomped again.

…

He paused, then twisted into a backhand, smashing the claws of the next shadow away. He used the momentum to rocket his other fist forwards, shaking as it crashed through the skull of the shademeat.

In the distance, he heard croaking echoing through the halls and drowning out the smaller noises he was making. He wouldn't be able to tell if his sound was echoing properly or not. Adam understood the trick here now, and gave a small approving smile.

Not bad murderpit, you're still working with sh*t units, but this was actually somewhat clever. The Guild notes only mentioned the monster traits, not this synergistic strategy at play here. Error, ignorance, or sabotage?

The shademeats liked to ambush. They were silent as they did it. The only indication of their presence being their body muffling the noise around them. So to cover up the sound not reverberating properly, the dungeon put a real loud beastie alongside it so that the halls would be more noisy when everything was spawned.

Unable to tell when a shademeat attacks, and not wearing proper armor, greenmeats die en masse. It was a nasty little one-two punch that worked on those lacking experience. It was also something that took him all of one trip down here to figure out, so it still wasn't getting a passing grade.

Six out of ten, try harder next time.

Unfortunately, this still meant that he would need to make some purchases once he was done getting these cores out and back up to the surface. Good chance of Scrappy getting murdered if he didn't.

He raised his left arm and jerked his hand downwards.

A bolt shattered a white mask. A shademeat collapsed into a tar-like vaguely human corpse.

Goddamnit, you better be worth at least one-hundred and twenty-five valis or pray that the bolt wasn't broken in your face. Otherwise he was going to torture the next one of you he meets.

—

He stepped through the doorway, scratching at his scalp as he did so, closing the door behind him. The room was warm and the fireplace crackling, indicative of a long burning. It was too damn drafty to keep the place warm without it going all day. Might be a good idea to get those windows repaired, or at least covered up.

He shrugged off his bag, tossing it to the side. Then he began the process of removing the gauntlets and gambeson, as well as everything else on his outermost layer. It needed a wash and a drying.

Much to his expectation, the core did indeed get more valuable at a somewhat consistent rate heading lower. The frogs and shades both went for seven-hundred and fifty a pop, massively better than the lizards, who were in turn massively better than the kids and dogs. Just the batch he had slaughtered near the entrance was enough for his preparatory purchases and some change left over.

He glanced over, then slowed in his loosening of the gambeson ties at what he saw. He didn't stop though, he had been wearing this all day, he instead raised an eyebrow.

Tinytit* stood in front of the fireplace, hands on her hips, tapping a foot at him. Her expression was flat and disapproving.

"...what?" He grunted.

"You forgot to tell me about that woman's offer, then walked away while we were in the middle of our womanly staredown." Tinytit* glowered at him, raising her hands to point at him in parallel. "Then you spend lots of time at the guild, probably playing hooky again, and now you come back really late at night. I should be in bed right now, yanno?"

"Then go to bed." Adam replied, moving on to take off his boots.

"Gah!" Tinytit* rubbed her forehead with both fists. "My child is a delinquent-type!" She muttered to herself, before speaking up and pointing a dramatic finger at him. "I need to greet you after you come back so I can update your status and go like-"

She moved into one of those cutesy-stances that women sometimes did. "You did really well today! Your goddess is proud of you! Come lay your head on my lap as a reward!" She patted her thighs as an emphasis, speaking with a soft and warm tone and smiling gently.

She then changed her stance to be significantly more goblin-like, with hunched back and grasping fingers. "I can't do that if you're out late at night sleeping with strange women and picking fights with alleycats or something!" She growled at him.

"I'm a grown-ass man, woman. Heap your affections onto the kid, I don't need em." Adam rumbled dismissively, picking up his clothing and moving to the back to wash them off. Opening the door to the stone backyard of the church, he could faintly see new things set up in one of the corners, smithing equipment he was presuming. So Shortstack and Tinytit* came to an agreement after all?

Tinytit* followed him, and moved ahead to start drawing water from the well before he reached the rope. "You could be a million years old and you'd still be my precious familia member." She spoke quite seriously, eyes shining in the dim flickers of the distant fire-light. "I'd be a failure of a goddess if I don't pamper you every now and then. Now come on, I'll help you wash your clothes off. Then I'm updating you, okay?"

Adam grunted in reply, and started the process of cleaning his gear off from the day's bloodshed. His employer moved in unison, the gear being cleaned off at a steady pace, the two of them quiet as the work went by.

Soon enough, it was hung up near the fireplace alongside brat's own coat, and his shirt was on the floor. "Copy it down this time, I've figured out how to read while at the guild." He demanded.

She paused, before throwing her arms around his neck and making him lurch forwards with the sudden weight. He growled and resisted the urge to destroy the thing touching him unexpectedly.

"You weren't playing hooky at all! You've been working hard!" She happily replied, rubbing her face against his back for a few moments, before pulling away and hopping over to grab a page and something to write with. Returning after a moment, she pointed the pen down. "Lay down all the way, I'll need to write on something after I update you."

"Use the floor." He replied.

"Nope! Lay down!" His employer commanded, with a bouncing shake of her head and a re-emphasized point down.

Unfortunately, she was indeed his employer. He grumbled the entire way down, laying on top of his shirt with a visibly displeased expression. She moved on top of him shortly after, sitting on the small of his back and starting the process of rubbing her fingers over his back to do what was apparently magic.

He had indeed noticed an increase in his capabilities the other day, doing suicides with the kid. A tiny, fractional increase so far, but it was a noticeable increase all the same. That proved that this 'falna' stuff wasn't just placebo and that he could indeed get some of his old specs back in this meatframe.

Tinytit* gave him another one of those stupid hugs, laying her whole body against his back. He ignored it and went back to his internal monologue.

Of course. If he was capable of getting stronger, that meant others were too. In a city full of mass-monster-murderers? There was bound to be someone who was the strongest, with the best gear, training, and killer instinct. There was a King in the city, and it wasn't currently him.

After nearly fifty years as the undisputed best in the world? That was rankling him something fierce. There was an itch in his bones at the moment, and he needed to scratch out names to get rid of it.

But, carefully, of course. Rushing into regicide was a stupid move. He'd have to creep carefully until he found the top. Then, he'd have to carefully build up funds and power until he was good enough to be back on top once again. But that was perfectly fine by him.

Because here? He could get both just by killing.

This might be the best f*cking city in the world, whatever world this was.

…

He had been down here for a while. He shifted slightly. Tinytit* was laying against his back.

She snored softly as he shifted.

She had fallen asleep.

Adam's fist clenched in rage as he silently smoldered on the floor of the church, his employer, legitimacy, and path to power currently napping on his back like he was a f*cking meat-bed.

She had done this on purpose. She definitely had.

He was going to start sleeping in a chair. Just to stop this sh*t from ever happening again.

He glanced about the room again, and the fire that merrily crackled with broken furniture-wood.

They didn't have a chair.

He narrowed his eyes.

He was going to buy a chair, a good chair, and he was going to sleep on it.

No. A bench was better. He was going to get Shortstack to make something worth a damn, and order a bench from her. Like the one he used to have while he still used his warframe, nice and durable, with a handle or two on the bottom so he could use it as a shield and massive club too.

Then he was going to sleep on it, right in front of the fire, and he wouldn't be pinned against the f*cking floor by Bitesized Babe.

"Hmm…" Tinytit* grumbled and curled up further on his back. "Warm."

That's because he was currently furious, ms employer. Please get the f*ck off his back so he can sleep in a more defensible position.

…Barricades. He was going to buy barricades and steel plates to line the interior with. Turn this church into a fortress to keep f*ckers away. Add in a falling blade trap or three, then a few landmines outside. He was going to turn it into a fortress and sleep on a bench and not underneath his unfortunately critical-employer.

Quietly, Adam seethed his way to sleep.

Hestia snored on the well-heated bed.

Bell Cranel, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

As much as they hurt to do, these 'suicides' were nice for raising his stats. Most days he was getting around six or seven points in most things, but adding the exercises Adam-san showed him added about two points to that figure on their own! That might also be because their delve to the Dungeon that day, he supposed, but he was pretty sure it was the exercises.

They hurt a lot more than the early-floor monsters, that was for sure.

Desperately trying to bring air back into his lungs, Bell stared at the cool blue sky and imagined it as a flood of water coming down and getting rid of at least some of the heat in his chest and limbs. He could almost feel it washing over his face and neck, rinsing the sweat from his skin.

He blinked. Bruni-san was holding an upturned bucket of water over his view of the sky.

Oh he wasn't imagining it, that was actually well-water.

"You looked like you were dying there, kid. Thought I'd help ya out." Bruni-san smiled down at him, moving the water bucket out of the way. She had to bend down slightly to meet his gaze because her…

…er…

Yeah.

Bell weakly raised a hand and curled it into a thumbs-up, smiling thankfully as his upper body was slightly relieved of its terrible burn. Bruni-san chuckled down at him, moving off to the side, towards the forge she set up in the corner of their backyard. He stayed on the ground long enough to get something resembling energy to move again, before forcing himself up.

First rolling over and sighing in relief as his front met new cool stone, then mustering up the will to push up on slightly shaking and very sore arms. Once on his hands and knees, he slowly worked one foot up underneath himself, getting into a kneel, and then pausing to consider his next movement.

"You done being dead kid?" Adam-san called out from inside the church.

"One second!" He called back, forcing himself up into a proper stand, swaying for a moment, then steadying himself. Finally back into a proper stand, he made his way to the inside of the church. Hestia-sama was merrily going through the process of cooking jagamarukun at the fireplace, with bronze trays mounted over the fireplace and covers applied to protect from the smoke.

He smiled and waved as he entered, a gesture she returned before she returned to humming a soft and nostalgic tune that he couldn't quite place. He let his gaze wander until he found his senpai, who was currently…

…stabbing himself with a bolt? Bell furrowed his eyebrows, stepping over and looking down to get a closer look at what Adam-san was doing. Currently, that was slowly pressing a bolt into his bare forearm, with little spots of blood lining the limb and indicating that he's done this a few times already.

"Adam-san? What are you doing?"

His perpetually-frowning senpai rumbled idly for a moment, before replying. "Testing. Endurance improves durability and stamina, from what I can tell, my skin is about on par with normal leather now." He pointed the bolt down to his crossed legs, where Bell saw a few small marks that indicated tiny holes poked through the leather of his pants as well.

"Oh yeah! Gramps told me how the toughest adventurers could get hit by an avalanche and be fine! Their skin getting stronger than any normal armor." Bell replied cheerfully, before raising a hand to rub his neck. "..I could've just told you that earlier, I suppose."

"I already tried telling him!" Hestia-sama called out grumpily. "He insisted on 'getting accurate measure'"

"What kind of idiot doesn't know how tough they are? You can't plan for sh*t if you don't know exactly what you can take." Adam grumbled out in reply, equally grumpy. "You have to know the specs on your frames, woman."

"And you've learned that you're 'slightly tougher' now, how about that? Was that worth jabbing yourself over and over again?"

"Yes. I'll have to do this every week or so to make sure I'm up to date."

Bell chuckled and leaned back on his hands, enjoying the lighthearted bickering. They occasionally got into it like this, and he was starting to think they just enjoyed arguing. It wasn't what he was expecting in a familia, but he could hardly complain.

He had a familia. That was a pretty great thing to have. He took the opportunity to simply rest more, let his body recover from those 'suicides'. It was a strange name for an exercise, but he understood why they were called that after the first time. He wondered what army Adam was part of before, if they taught that kind of thing to thei-

A weight hit his chest and he yelped, falling backwards in astonishment.

"There ya go kid, you're wearing that today." Adam-san said, grunting and causing him to focus on the world once more. He blinked, and grabbed the thing on his chest, raising it up above and in front of himself for inspection.

"A helmet?" He asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position again and turning the metal object over in his hands, observing the padded interior and leather straps. It looked like a guildhelm, with a sort of integrated crest on the top and a large brim, and attachment holes on either side to mount a visor. Currently, there was no visor.

"Bought it the other day, after pumping your girlfriend for info on the next floors." Adam-san made a vulgar insinuation seemingly without even noticing, continuing with his explanation without pause. "Shades and frogs, both like to go for the head, that'll keep you from losing yours."

Bell frowned. She wasn't his girlfriend, but the idea of Eina-san and Adam-san… He didn't like that. It was selfish of him, they were both adults and no matter what his senpai said, they weren't dating, but still…

"Don't worry about the cost, I went back in the other day, before coming back. It's all paid for." Adam-san continued, seemingly noticing by misunderstanding his frown. Bell looked up to see him attaching his own helmet, strapping it on and shuffling it around to be more comfortable. When combined with his worn gambeson and gauntlets, he looked like a proper guard, albeit one without a weapon on hand.

…Adam-san had been working hard the other day to get them better gear, and here he was sitting down, being jealous over something that didn't even happen. Bell huffed in amusem*nt. Not very hero-like, how was he going to get any girls being this petty? He pushed himself up and put the helmet on, adjusting the straps to secure it to his head.

He posed proudly, meeting his senpai's blank stare and Hestia-sama's delighted clapping.

"It looks good on you!" She praised, causing his head to swell and nose to turn up.

"You're not wearing a shirt." Adam grumbled in amusem*nt.

Bell glanced down, seeing that he was indeed still bare from the waist up, and coughed into his fist. "Give me a moment."

Senpai snorted, before moving over to the backdoor. Bell moved to get his shirt and armor on, ignoring the tinge of pink on his face and the laughing grin on his goddess' face.

"Oi, Shortstack!" Adam-san called out.

"Yeah handsome?" Bruni-san called back. Hestia-sama's grin fell and she aggressively poked the fire. Bell gulped and pretended that he didn't notice.

"What's your minimum commission fee?" Adam-san asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Twenty-five thousand!" Bell balked in the midst of tying his boots. "Why? You ordering somethin'?"

"f*ck no!" Senpai responded, moving away from the doorframe and towards the front door. Taking up his bag and slinging it over one shoulder, he turned an expectant eye towards him. Bell finished his boots with a grin, bouncing up and moving to the door to pick up his own bag.

"Heading out for the day?" Hestia-sama called out. "Make sure to stay safe okay?!"

"Can do!" He cheerfully replied, making up for Senpai's unenthused grunt. "We'll make lots of valis again today!"

"Goodbye!"

"Goodbye!"

Adam-san was already walking through the door, in his usual fashion, forcing Bell to run slightly to catch up again.

It was perhaps kinda ironic that Adam-san hated cats thanks to his old lover, because he reminded Bell of the old barn cat that lived on their farm. Grumpy, distant, and was away for most of the day. But he always did his job in killing pests, and always came back inside to sleep at night, ears flat and expression irritated as the little kids came by to roughly stroke his ears and back.

Maybe that's why Senpai had managed to get a catgirl making him food already? Like attracting like?

…Bell considered that line of thought, and decided he probably shouldn't voice it aloud.

"Whaddya staring at kid?" Senpai grumbled at him, causing Bell to look away and bring his hand up to his neck again, fingers brushing steel.

"I was just thinking about the helmets." Bell tried his best lie.

"Nice lie." Senpai called him out immediately, causing him to slump. "You're piss at lying kid, you need to work on that."

"Eh… It's not exactly a heroic quality, is it?"

"The f*ck are you talking about? Heroes lie all the time."

"Do they?"

"Probably."

"I'm not sure If I believe that."

Adam rumbled disinterestedly. Bell huffed in amusem*nt.

"Hey, is that who I think it is?" A voice called out, catching both of their attentions. Bell turned his gaze to the source of the voice, a man walking over to them from the other side of the street. A tall man, though not quite as tall as senpai, with short-cropped dark brown hair and tan skin. He was wearing a combination of toga and armor, with sandaled feet and a leather circlet on his brow.

"You manage to find a familia kid? Get yourself a girl down in the dungeon yet?" The man asked with a grin and a laugh, directing the question towards him. Adam raised his brows and looked at him for an answer.

Bell furrowed his brows. "...I recognize you, but I don't remember where. I'm sorry."

The man waved it off with a laugh. "I saw you as you were coming into Orario. I was on guard duty."

Realization came to him immediately, and Bell snapped his fingers. "That's right!" He turned a smile towards senpai and explained. "This is the man who told me how to register with the guild, before Hestia-sama took me in!"

Adam-san's face was unchanged, an unimpressed and barely interested expression. The guard laughed, before holding up a hand. "Hestia-sama eh? She must be that new goddess that descended awhile back. Glad to see you found a familia kid."

"It was hard, a bunch turned me away because I looked scrawny!" Bell laughed.

"You are scrawny." Senpai rumbled, bringing both Bell and the other man to laughter.

"Let me introduce myself properly." The man spoke, raising his hand and offering a shake, first to Bell then to Adam. Both took his hand and shook, Bell three times and Adam once. "Names Hashana Dorlia, Level 4, Ganesha Familia."

"Level 4!" Bell exclaimed.

"I don't look it, do I?" Dorila-san chuckled, reaching up to scratch at his chin. "I got my last level up… gosh maybe about two years ago now? But trust me, I'm pretty tough. Here, take a swing, hard as you can." Dorlia-san raised a palm facing them, a smile on his face.

"Are you sure?" Bell blinked, asking for confirmation.

Dorlia-san grinned. "I am a Ganesha adventurer, you know? We all like showing off in one way or another. C'mon, punch my hand, I'll be a poor level four if I couldn't handle two level ones."

Bell nodded, taking a stance and raising his fists. It was foolish to expect anything, a level four was way stronger than a level one could hope to be, but he still wanted to do his best.

And his best was…

The image of Senpai's unstoppable fists, crashing through monsters and leaving red in their wake…

Bell matched the stance and swung.

His knuckles crashed into Dorlia-san's palm.

A meaty smack rang out in the morning streets. Bell pulled his hand back and shook it out. It was like punching a tree or something.

Disappointingly, but expectedly, the palm of the level four was completely fine. Dorlia-san gave a rumbling chuckle. "Good attempt kid, better than most your age."

"I didn't do anything, your fist is really hard!" Bell complimented, still shaking his hand out.

"You'll get there in time. Now how about your fellow familia member? You want to take a swing, eh?"

Bell turned his gaze. Adam-san nodded slowly, moving forwards to take a stance in front of the brandished palm.

His body moved, coiling back and fist ready. The image seemed to burn itself into his mind.

Senpai's fistshook. It rocketed forwards in an almost perfectly smooth, curving approach. It crashed into the palm. The sound of a metal gauntlet crashing into adventurer flesh rang out.

…The hand had jerked back, but stopped the fist against it. Senpai grunted in dissatisfaction, pulling his hand back. Dorlia-san did the same, bringing his hand up for inspection, grin suddenly gone as he took measure of the impact.

Then, an immense grin covered his face. "Gods above, what do they feed you kids these days?" He raised his palm for them to inspect closer, and the ugly bruise that was starting to rapidly form across it. "You are level one, right kid?"

"Adam Smasher. Best goddamn murderer in this city." Senpai engaged in his usual boasting. Dorlia-san's eyes narrowed a tad. Bell made up for the explanation with his own.

"Adam-san used to be in the army, he got his falna the day after I did." He explained. "We've been at it for almost a week now."

"The army eh? I'm from Rakia myself, way back in the day. What about you?" From the west?

"I wore the stars and stripes for six years, right after the collapse." Senpai explained.

"Stars and stripes… Collapse…" Dorlia-san's eyes narrowed in concentration, thinking for a moment, before his face slackened in sympathy. "Ah… You're from Abandon, aren't you? You'd be the right age for an emergency draft while everything down there was falling apart after ol One-Eye decided to have his little walkabout."

Bell blinked, not getting the reference.

"Something like that." Adam-san grunted with a frown. "Wound up here about two weeks ago."

"Abandon?" Bell asked, causing Adam-san to glance at him and Dorlia to spit off to the side.

"It's ancient history, kid, don't worry about it." Senpai explained with his typical flat rumbling.

"That's one way to put it." Dorlia-san agreed. "Listen, I got a quest lined up right now, but it was nice meeting you two properly. Come by the Ganesha house in about a week, okay? I'll take you two out drinking, my treat." He leaned in and grinned, winking at Bell. "You gotta tell me if you find a woman down in the dungeon by then, got it?"

"Ehehe." Bell chuckled sheepishly, rubbing at his neck again. Dorlia-san turned to Senpai and nodded.

"We'll exchange war-stories, that's what soldiers are supposed to do."

Adam rumbled in something that could be taken as affirmative, causing the level four adventurer to grin. Waving a hand behind him, he walked away, calling out. "Remember, Ganesha house, one week! I can't waste all my pay on booze by myself you know?"

Bell waved back as he disappeared round a distant corner. "We'll be there!" He promised with a grin.

Turning to Adam. "He said he'd pay for war stories, that isn't free is it?"

"He's paying for the company and info on future rivals." Adam-san corrected cynically. "It's still worth it, because I can get another shot at his hand next time. Remind me to buy some weights."

Bell huffed in amusem*nt as they began down the street again. "Are we checking if Miach-sama has a catalogue ready yet?"

"He doesn't." Adam-san confidently asserted.

"How do you know that?"

"You f*ckers use quills here, he doesn't have the time to finish a proper catalogue in one day."

—

"Advertisem*nt sample, nya~. Eat at the Hostess of Fertility!" Anya-san was waiting for them in the middle of the path again, holding out a bag which contained a delicious-smelling something inside. "Experimental new dish, Smashburgers, nya~!"

Adam's step skipped once, before he continued on and ignored her completely. Bell walked over to take the bag, winking at the catgirl in the maid uniform again. "I'll make sure he eats it." He promised.

Senpai had a girl making him food! Gramps said that was the number one indicator of an eternal love! Bell wasn't about to let his friend squander this kind of once-in-a-lifetime affection. Only a fool lets his brother-in-arms waste an opportunity like this!

Anya-san brought her hands together, nodding in determination and anticipation at him. "Thank you, nya~."

"I'm rooting you on!" Bell whispered, giving a thumbs up to show his solidarity.

"I'm gonna snag him! Mama proved that his heart is through his stomach!" She whispered back, fiery determination in her eyes.

"Kid, stop encouraging the f*cking cat and get a move on!" Senpai called out from further down the street, deeply annoyed sounding but pausing for him to catch up all the same.

"I believe in you!" Bell reaffirmed, starting to jog to catch up with Adam-san again, who's features were cast in his signature universal loathing.

The other waitresses waved with various degrees of amusem*nt. The pretty one with the gray hair blew a kiss his way. Bell almost tripped and his face tinged pink, but he grinned and waved back all the same.

Being an adventurer was great.

"Come on kid, we got things to butcher." Adam-san rumbled with bloodthirst and a flat face. But his eyes were always alight with focus.

Bell returned the savage smirk with an eager grin of his own.

The fighting was no exception.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

He needed to get stronger faster, and for that he needed to get valis faster.

Theoretically get these numbers up higher would be better long-term improvement from the medieval-ass gear they were using here, as demonstrated by how little his punch did to soldiermeat's hands earlier, but that didn't help him in the short term. In the short term, he was in a decidingly sh*t situation.

His punches were capable of smashing bricks into gravel, he had tested the other day during his time clearly out the back. Removing larger rock and brick rubble by turning it into a much more manageable pile of gravel. He had bruised the palm of that 'level four'.

It was more than a times four increase in durability, soldiermeat didn't have the hard calluses and bulk that some of the meatmonks he killed in the past did. Their arms were much harder, and this 'falna' thing increased based on the inherent abilities of the individual. Soldiermeat had much more average looking hands, and they had stopped his panzerfaust flat with minimal damage to the underlying tissue.

A times four increase wouldn't do that, Adam would still be capable of turning his forearm into gore if it was just a times four. It was more like a times eight or nine increase in durability from his best estimate. Assuming an equal level of increase across all four 'stats'? Agility, Dexterity, Endurance, Strength? An otherwise average meatbag that was eight or nine times faster, stronger, and more durable was solidly into proper fullborg levels of prowess. Upper-end fullborgs at that.

Stuck in this meatframe and with no proper guns? Adam would have to get real f*cking clever real fast to kill something like that. He could do it, it would be like killing an ACPA while stuck in a Gemini, and he's done that before, but the margins would be far closer than he would like.

Sure, it proved that he could get his own meat to a similar level eventually, but that didn't help him right now if some big mean motherf*cker decided to mosey up to his little operation and rip his greencorp a new asshole next week.

If some level four or higher decided to pressgang his little corp tomorrow, Adam wouldn't have any options for telling them to f*ck off. He needed to get stronger immediately.

And the best way to get stronger would be to make money to buy some nice little 'no thank you' options just in case. Which meant that he and kid needed to step up their f*cking game and start making more money yesterday. He couldn't go too fast though, because going too fast meant the kid wouldn't get time to figure out how to kill the sh*t in the way of the more profitable lower levels. If he lost the kid as backup, his delves would be crippled in money making efficiency.

That would just make the initial goal even harder, and therefore was unacceptable.

They'd have to go just slow enough for the kid, but Adam knew what his best option for money making was after checking the core bounties from the guild.

Needle Rabbits, floors seven to ten, cores worth seventeen-hundred and fifty a pop. Going down to floor eight and nine would be ideal, it only had kids, dogs, and the other 'newbie killer' Killer Ants. Going one floor deeper would hit three new types of f*cker that would eat into opportunity costs. Going to floor seven would have them deal with flying moth f*cks, which would waste their time and costs in ammo to handle them.

The ants weren't bad either, cores worth fifteen-hundred and seventy-five a pop, but the bunnies were the more valuable targets.

With all of that in mind, he had remembered how convenient it was to have children carry his bags around down there, with those japbrats hounding him that one time. They mentioned 'doing Supporter work' with audible capital letters an hour or so in, leading him to asking guildmeat what that was.

Leading him to his current situation, staring at a bunch of children wearing arms and armor, with similar dufflebags on their back. Scrappy behind him with a curious head tilted, and guildmeat presenting the five kids with a wave of her hands.

"Our supporters on-hand available for contract negotiation." She introduced with a polite smile.

"You start them young around here?" He idly questioned, taking measure of the supposed 'supporters'.

"Young?" One of the ones in the lead asked, a kid with dark brown hair and eyes, reaching up to scratch his chin with an amused look. "I'm thirty-eight years old. You never see a Pallum before, kid?"

Adam raised a brow and looked down at the one who had spoken. "The f*ck is a Pallum?"

"Yer looking at some." The lead replied, a hand resting on the hilt of a child-sized arming sword on his belt.

"...Children?" Adam asked.

One of the children spat on the stone floor, causing guildmeat to flinch, before stomping away and out of the room. Adam didn't bother watching that one go, eyes still focused on the one that was actually explaining sh*t.

The one in the lead frowned. "I'd appreciate it if ya didn't say it like that. Touchy subject you see? But practically yer about right. We're a little-folk, but we feast and f*ck like anyone else."

Adam nodded, not really caring if they were actually children or not, and got into the meat of things. "We're going down for twelve hours, planned for floor five, potentially as far down as floor nine depending on rate of progress, but no deeper." Guildmeat flinched at that. Scrappy almost bounced on his heels.

Nods from the collected children, showing they found that agreeable… he'd need a way to distinguish them from goblins with his labels. Minimeats? Except one on the side with lighter brown hair, who clicked his tongue. "Need to pick up the kids at four, I can only do ten hours. Hopes of rescheduling a tad?"

"No." Adam bluntly replied. The brown-haired kid nodded in acceptance, turning to the lead kid and speaking again.

"I'll have to sit this one out, Tomas. Fianna be with you."

"Tell the missus I said hello, Chilchuck." The apparently named 'Tomas' replied with an accepting nod. The brown-haired kid made his own way out of the room, gently closing the door behind him as he did.

Adam waited for that one to leave, then continued his negotiations. "Contract payout will be ten percent of total earnings." All three remaining kids, showing that they were professionals, did not physically react to that. Unfortunately for them, Adam had commissioned more mercs for jobs that they had years alive. He could see the gleam of a perceived good payout in their eyes.

"Drop items will be retained by the party, but the supporter will be allowed to use their share of the payout to purchase them from the party at guild standard prices. Supporters will act to harvest slain monsters and call out potential ambushes. The party will act to protect the supporters, kill monsters, and cover retreats if overwhelmed."

"Any other support required?" Leadkid asked, rubbing his jawline in consideration.

"Not contractually obligated or rewarded, but permitted under a pro-bono basis." Adam dictated.

Leadkid considered that for a moment, looking the two of them up and down briefly, before slowly nodding. "Alright, the terms are acceptable. Now which one of us are ya wanting to hire? Susie here c-"

"All three." Adam cut him off with an annoyed glower. Causing the kids to blink and glance at each other briefly.

"Hiring all three of us… for ten percent total?" Leadkid narrowed his eyes. The other two kids were also staring carefully, consideringly.

"Ten percent each." He rumbled, knowing that he already had them at this point.

"Bargained and Done. Guild Advisor Eina Tulle as contract witness, then? Let's get it in writing." Leadkid replied quickly and surely, speaking on behalf of his fellows to secure the job dangling before them. Adam rumbled in amusem*nt as he turned to guildmeat, who scrambled for a moment to get out a quill and paper to write up the contract outlined.

Adam pulled a chair over, and sat down at the central table in the room. "Pull up a chair kid, the fiddly bits will take awhile." He advised, knowing that this was going to take at least an hour to get the specific wording agreed upon. Working with professionals was always a long affair, but at least there weren't any f*cking lawyers here to make it a whole-day bullsh*t banzai.

f*cking lawyers. Wasting his goddamn time, all the time.

He should find a lawyer here so he could kill it.

—

"So how long have you kids been in this line of work?" Leadkid asked as they began their descent down into the dungeon.

"I got my falna six days ago! Senpai got his the day after." Scrappy enthusiastically replied, causing some amount of unusual shuffling behind him as they made their way down.

"You got yours before 'senpai' over there?" The token girlkid asked, one with green eyes and red hair and a freckled face. "Why's he the senpai then?"

"Ah, Adam-san has been fighting way longer than I have. I just started, but he was in the army before coming to Orario. He's really good!"

"Ah, you've killed surface monsters before then?" Girlkid asked him more directly.

He didn't bother turning around. "Define monster."

There was a pause at that, before Leadkid responded. "Hateful creature, just wants to murder and eat upright folk, has a little core in the center?"

Adam thought for a moment, did anything he killed before qualify as… Ah, cyberpsychos. They had little brain or heart cores, and were generally loose nutters that liked killing things. They were pretty fun to stomp on the occasions he got to. "Maybe a few hundred? I wasn't keeping track." Not of them in specific, at least. He really should've been, in retrospect.

"Pretty good numbers for someone without a falna. You got a favorite weapon, maybe forget it back home?"

"We used guns back home. Guns and swords usually, sometimes fists and feet." He explained. "The guns around here are sh*t one-shot things that still use open powder. I'm saving up for one of those 'Bowguns' I saw last time we were in the Hephaestus floors."

"Ah! Up in Barry's Ballistas? He's actually my nephew on my mother's side." Blondkid responded at that with an audible smile. "What model were you looking at?"

Adam started paying slightly more attention to the Blondkid now that his preferred subject of weapons had come up. "The crank-operated repeater model. The automatic model seemed interesting, but comparing the draw-weight to the cost, it's just not worth it."

"Oh, I hear some prefer it for lack of strain, less burn in the arms lets them fire longer."

Adam snorted. "The burn means your meat is working. Making it muscle-powered just means more of a workout. Besides, I'm already going to have to pay out the ass for the bolts. Paying out the ass for a fancier but not better gun? Not worth it. Maybe once I can get a passive revenue stream up and can afford to waste valis."

The kids were nodding along. "That's just about how it is, when your bolts cost five cores to replace, you start hoping they don't break for a while." Girlkid responded with a click of her tongue. "The balcony garden just doesn't grow enough to afford more than a couple bolts a season, not when you're competing with Demeter and her huge tracts."

Adam nodded decisively. "Lizards are better on a per kill basis, but the f*ckers refuse to show up and fill my pockets at a decent pace. It's a hassle."

"Not to mention paying for armor upkeep, the f*cking goblins and their grubby little claws. Even chainmail can't handle it for too long. Nothing lasts more than a month." Blondkid griped, tugging at the armor he was currently wearing, the aforementioned chainmail coat that covered the majority of his body. "Then you take home pennies at the end of the day and eat leftovers again to save for rent."

Adam decided that he liked these kids much better than the japbrats. They had actual reasonable concerns instead of gushing about random bullsh*t all the time.

---

"Noticed it that time?" Adam asked as he tossed another frog corpse back for the Support Squad to handle. He hadn't quite managed to get the time-saving trick figured out on them yet, not having a good angle thanks to how low to the ground they were. He had to go through the throat to do it, which required the tongue to be extended and to be right next to them, it really wasn't worth the hassle.

They had teeth, he noticed. What kind of frogs have teeth? Did all frogs have teeth and he just never noticed?

Adam belatedly realized that he had never actually seen a frog before coming here, so it was entirely possible that all frogs had teeth and no one told him.

"Yeah! It got louder in one ear than the other when they got close. I don't think I would've noticed it if you didn't point it out." Scrappy responded, pulling his sword out of a shade and doing his best to kick it over to the SS. "I knew they were quiet from Eina-san's quick lesson, but I didn't know they messed up the sound around them too."

"Keep an ear out for it and they shouldn't be capable of sneaking up on you." Adam advised, turning his attention towards the SS. "Sound off, any injuries?"

"None!"
"None!"
"None!"

The three halfmeats called out in near-unison, hefting their bags again as he was speaking. They had managed to keep up with their pace so far, and he and scrappy were moving through the floor at a much more appreciable rate now. Instead of three or five minutes of ripping cores out of corpses after each fight, it was about ten-seconds of sound-off and waiting before moving onto the next section of the dungeon.

"You three are worth every goddamn enny thus far." Adam rumbled out, performing one last check on their flanks before starting to move along. Feet echoing in the halls and mixing with the sounds of frogs croaking in the distance.

"Adam! Blasphemy!" Scrappy complained briefly, before turning back to face the SS. "He's right though! I didn't know supporters were so convenient!"

"Heh!" Halflead replied with a proud chuckle. "Pleased to hear the flattery. Gotta say, you two are damn good for rookies. Mr. Smasher over there is moving like a veteran level two and you're managing to keep up anyways. Think we came across some new rising stars, whaddya think Susanna, Finlay?"

"I think we came across a lunatic and his baby brother." Halfchain replied with a grouch and a grin. "Still, we're making more today than we have in weeks, and the shift's not even over yet, so no complaints here."

"Tall and blond, you looking for long-term employees or is this a one-time contract?" Halfred asked him more directly, eyes firmly on the long term payouts.

"We're already making more today than we have in the past week, ignoring the pass parade. Yes." Adam bluntly answered, senses sharp for the next monster on their way through the tunnels.

"Pass Parade?" Halflead asked with a careful tone.

Scrappy excitedly chimed in. "Ah, we got hit by a pass parade maybe… yesterday or the day before? It was tough, but Adam-san knew exactly how to deal with it. We earned seventeen-thousand that day, it was great!"

"How'd ya deal with it?" Halfchain asked.

Adam, the leading expert in murder, decided to answer. "Tactical retreat back into an already-exhausted stretch of dungeon with a relatively narrow hallway. They were forced to approach from one angle and without being able to surround us effectively. After that it was merely a test of endurance."

"And with your fists and the boy's fancy sword, they probably went down in one hit each… I can see it." Halflead responded with a musing tone. "Wouldn't be easy, but I could see it."

"That's f*cking absurd that's what it is. They teach you how to do that in the army?" Halfchain sounded disbelieving.

Adam snorted. "I did it against f*ckers with weapons back in the army days. Doing it against a bunch of meatbags without arms or armor? Wasn't a challenge, it just took a while."

"If we get hit by one, don't mind if I cash in on my 'overwhelmed by monsters' clause, alright?" Halfchain responded. "I got a vested interest in not dying down here."

"Speak for yerself, yellowbelly. Seventeen-hundred valis is better than what we normally make in two or three days." Halfred responded. "I'm showing up again tomorrow."

"I'd show up again, it's just-"

Adam cut the halfmeat off, snapping his arm to the side and flexing at the wrist. A bolt crashed into the face of a shade about to leap at him. The corpse collapsed and rolled twice, colliding with Adam's feet. Hefting it up, he kicked it over to the SS, who snapped into action.

The corpse hit the ground, Halfred and Halfchain took defensive positions around Halflead, who had his knife out before the corpse had landed. A quick stab, then a flex and an open torso. The core was ripped out and tossed in the bag on his back, and Halflead stood ready to move along once more, tossing the bolt back to Adam as he rose. The other halfmeats returning to a more ready 'traveling' positioning immediately.

Adam caught the bolt. Seven seconds to remove the core.

He grinned and reloaded. Halflead grinned back, and hefted the half-full bag.

"You're really good at that!" Scrappy showed his appreciation for the craft.

"You hire professionals for a reason, kid." Adam answered, starting to walk once more.

Floor Five was no big issue, in the end.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

"You going down again tomorrow? If so, what time do you want us here?" Halflead asked on behalf of the SS, bags of loot already safely handed over to the guildmeat and their bank-accounts swelling appropriately in accordance to the pre-established shares of the final total.

The supporters streamlined the process of murder plus harvest to sublime levels. Now instead of having to waste time pulling cores and drops out of each beastie they slaughtered, the corpses were instead left on the ground for the supporters to handle while he and Scrappy could focus on killing more. More attention on the fighting instead of the harvesting meant less injuries, less downtime, and more killing.

When combined with the increased value of the shades and the frogs compared to the kids, dogs, and lizards?

A bit over two-hundred thousand valis today. Twelve hours of pure murder with nothing but his body and the spawn rates slowing him down. He was practically smiling as they returned from the murderpit today.

Thirty percent went to the SS, as promised. The rest was divided three ways between his account, Scrappy's account, and the Familia account. That still meant that Adam was walking away with fifty-thousand valis today, more than enough to start buying some proper f*cking upgrades. The SS didn't have any interest in the drops, so Scrappy now had a small bag of monster bits on hand.

Those monster bits might be useful, maybe not. They had earned enough today that holding onto them for Shortstack or Blueboy might be worth doing, depending on what their catalogues looked like.

But first… "Kid, you said something about having a meeting scheduled tomorrow?" Adam questioned, looking up from his bank statement to glance over at Scrappy.

"Oh! Yeah, tomorrow is Solis, I promised Eina-san that I'd attend another advisory meeting then." Scrappy answered, rubbing the back of his head slightly sheepishly. "Those take a few hours, so I'll be busy for most of the midday."

Adam nodded with a frown, it was annoying to delay their progress for a day, but they had made significant strides today and the kid needed a general education on murder. Getting him caught up and outsourcing the lessons was probably a smart idea. More importantly though…

"The f*ck did you call it?" Adam asked with a confused glare. "Solis?"

"I… Solis?" Scrappy asked, baffled. "The seventh day of the week… or the first in some places, I think?"

Adam tilted his head back, raising a brow. "...You mean Sunday?"

Scrappy blinked at him back, dropping his hand and tilting his head. "Did they call the days different things in Abandon?"

He still didn't know where or what that was, so instead he responded. "Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Seven days of the week."

Scrappy, Guildmeat, and the SS all looked at him like he had grown a second head. He rumbled a warning and most glanced away. Guildmeat responded with eyes looking off to the side.

"Solis, Lunae, Martis, Mercurii, Jovis, Veneris, Saturni. That's the most widely used names for the days of the week in Orario."

"Sounds stupid." Adam grunted in reply, no longer caring. "Right, so the kid's busy Sunday. We'll do another delve on Monday. Be ready then. Same contract conditions so long as there's only three of you, if there's more than three we'll need to renegotiate, got it?"

"Can do, Mister Smasher." Halflead replied with a smile and a nod, nods echoed by the other two halfmeats by his side. "We'll get three professionals back here again on Lunae. If that'll be all, we'll be on our way out?"

Adam nodded, dismissing and promptly ignoring the halfmeats thereafter. Their footsteps let him track them as they left, but barely. The halfmeats were f*cking quiet when they moved.

"Glad to see you aren't getting in the way of Bell-kun's education." Guildmeat said, relieved and with a small smile on her face.

"Information is Ammunition." Adam growled out with a pointed look. "If you're going to give the kid free tactical information, I'm not going to stop you. You had to pay for that sh*t back home."

"You had to pay for advice back home?" Scrappy asked, astonished.

"Yes." Adam replied, then turned the topic to more important matters. "Guildmeat, take me to the armors, I need an update in gear."

Guildmeat blinked, and got a complicated look on her face. "Y-you want to buy armor after saying it was a scam?"

"Are you stupid or deaf?" Adam growled out in reply. "I said your cheap sh*t was a scam. These cloth coats are already falling apart and we've had them all of two days. A thousand valis for something that lasts a week isn't a product, it's a tax." He leaned in to hiss out the next words. "A scam."

Leaning back, he raised one hand and rested the other in the crook of his arm, a lecturing pose. "If you're going to buy armor, it better be some proper f*cking armor, the kind you only need to replace if your fighting something worth a damn, not sh*t like kids and dogs. That sh*t is unacceptable."

"I… I had thought you were the type to see armor as a whole as pointless… That was wrong of me." Guildmeat apologized, bowing her head briefly. "I was worried that you were going to be a bad influence on Bell-kun, but you're surprisingly sensible, aren-"

"Skip the f*cking touchy-feely sh*t and take me to the armor already woman. Save the heartfelt garbage for when you and Scrappy finally f*ck." Adam interrupted with a roll of his eyes and a glower. Waving one hand in a sweeping motion to indicate that she should get a f*cking move on.

Unfortunately, both Scrappy and Guildmeat wasted more time sputtering out denials with red faces.

"T-that's not what's happening here!"
"Adam-san! I'm not- We're not- Eina-san isn't like that!"

After the standard amount of time waiting for the two of them to get their bearings together, he was finally led back to where they had bought their armor last time, a guild storehouse filled with mass-produced equipment that was near but not quite within the tower itself.

The endless capacity for meatbags to get hung up over something as basic as sex never failed to annoy him.

"While the Guild does provide standard equipment of various kinds at set prices, you might get better value from the bargain sales provided by the Hephaestus familia." Guildmeat advised as he was measured by another guildmeat for armor size. It wasn't going to be a perfect form-fitting affair, but they had various sets of what they called 'munition plate' ready in a fairly wide range of sizes, each of which was slightly adjustable to ensure a decent fit.

The munition plate didn't have full coverage on the lower legs and hands specifically, relying on thick leather in those sections, but it did provide a solid shell of metal everywhere else, which is all he really needed. For accurate measuring, he was currently bereft of his shirt. He had caught the second guildmeat, a woman with curled horns and fluffy hair, staring a few times.

"Bargain bin sh*t is usually bargain bin for a reason. You don't skimp out on armor, guildmeat." He glowered in reply.

"Ah, while it's mostly apprentice-level work, there's also the work of talented smiths who just don't have much recognition yet. It's entirely possible to get high quality gear from, and I'd recommend at least checking it over from time to time." Guildmeat stayed steadfast in her reasoning, which sounded about right.

Women f*cking loved thrift shopping, he had no idea why, but it was universal. Personally, he didn't have time for that sh*t.

"Oh really?" Scrappy asked, perking up. "If there's a chance I can get something really good, then it's worth at least checking out before getting standard stuff right?"

"Exactly!" Guildmeat nodded excitedly.

Adam rumbled in annoyance, but didn't bother advising otherwise. They weren't going down tomorrow anyways. "If you want to look for copper among piles of sh*t, feel free. I'm going to save myself the effort and buy steel."

"Ah, are you sure Adam-san? There's no harm in looking, is there?"

Adam let his deeply unimpressed and unenthusiastic stare express the sum total of his interest in doing that activity. The kind of look a man gives his girlfriend after she suggests a threesome involving another man, or a corporate executive gives his employee when they ask for a raise.

Scrappy got the hint, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle.

Then, point made, he spoke actual directions. "If you're going window-shopping, leave the bag of drops here. I'll take it back to homebase after I'm done here."

"Can do!" Scrappy said, walking over and dropping the aforementioned bag off next to his feet. "I'll go ahead and check out the bargain stuff now, if that's alright?"

"Yeah, have Guildmeat show you where those are." Adam commanded, waving off the two of them dismissively. Farewells made, Scrappy and Guildmeat departed from the fitting room.

Adam let a smirk cover his face, then turned his gaze over to the guildmeat currently measuring one of his biceps. She caught his gaze and eyes widened. He moved to loom over her, measuring tape dropping from her hands as looked up.

"Caught you staring." He growled out with intent.

"I-I'm sorry…" She whispered out, eyes flitting off to one side and body fidgeting.

He reached down and grabbed her chin with one hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. "How 'bout you make it up to me?"

Her breathing hitched and came out unsteady. Her eyes flickered around, anywhere except at him. "W-what did you… have in mind…?"

Adam grinned, and leaned in close. "I think you know."

"...T-there's an alcove… T-that we can go to…"

—

An hour or so later, Adam marched out of the Guild storehouse with great satisfaction and a brand new set of armor. Finally, his footsteps were reasonably heavy again, body weighed down by a good fifty or so pounds of new munition plate. Adjusted for his size and painted black to protect from monster blood.

Apparently, the gore was mildly acidic. This would explain the constant itch in his skin when fighting long enough, but it wasn't a problem so far thanks to his consistent use of healing potions. It did, however, mean that buying cheap sh*t was even more of a rip off than he was thinking, reinforcing his negative opinion on such.

The old adage held true. You have to have money to save money.

Hefting his bags and glancing at the sky, he paused in the street to stare at the distance.

There in the sky, circling around the city like some enormous manta-ray, was a colossal structure. A thin bone-like wheel with one long spike extending to its front, seven discs at regular intervals on its underside glowing with prismatic blue light, and seven long fin-like structures trailing behind it like it was some immense fish.

Judging from the look of the tower-tips that he could see from this angle, the entire structure was the size of a neighborhood and probably carried about as much on its top.

It was flanked by many smaller ray-like structures, moving to and from the main structure and bodies burdened with what looked like primitive shipping containers.

They had airships here too apparently. He wasn't sure why he was surprised. The technology was all kinds of random already, so magical flying ships were about par for the course.

Grunting, he turned his gaze from the flying city district, idly wondering why he hadn't seen it before already, and moved along. It wasn't worth getting all starry-eyed over, they had airships back home too.

More importantly, he needed to see what they could use these drops for. He still had thirty-thousand in his personal account and a good bit of gear would be more than worth all of it. You had to spend money to make money, after all.

He still hasn't come across anything that needed more than his fists yet, so maybe a shield? Or maybe some more potions…

Antidotes. He needed to buy antidotes and restock on bolts and healing potions before their next trip down. The moths were coming up, and those were bound to be a pain in his ass to deal with if he didn't have enough bolts for them. Then maybe some daggers just in case? He could throw those, Kagekaze taught him how a while back.

He did have enough for a proper crossbow, but nothing so far needed more than one or two shots from the arm-mounted one he already had, so no need for stronger quite yet.

"How was the meal, nya!?" A voice called out, causing his train of thought to derail and his face to twist into a deep frown. Focusing on the road once more, he saw the cat in the middle of the road.

"f*ck off, catmeat!" He called back with a deep frown. Her burger had been mid, too crispy and a lot more like a standard sandwich than a proper burger, but he's eaten worse in the past. Of course, he wasn't about to tell her that. "I dumped your sh*tty food and used the bag for cores."

"He's Lying~!" The gray-haired waitress called out, both hands flanking her mouth for the effect and a wide smile on her face. She had absolutely no way of confirming that, so it really didn't matter what she said.

"You're standing in my way, catmeat. Run off before I smash your ass against the pavement." Adam snarled, glare focused on the target of his antipathy.

"Yes please, nya~" She muttered under her breath, causing a rumble of fury to grow in his chest, before speaking louder. "Was it too crispy? Too soggy? Not enough meat or veggies?"

"You used radish slices, dumbass. Who the f*ck would eat a burger with f*cking radish on it?!" He gestured with both hands to demonstrate his outrage. Then, tired of the charade, he started stomping forwards, shoulders swinging with his heavy steps. "Scram, cat. I got places to be."

"What about the sauce, was it-" Catmeat cut herself off with a sniff. Her nose twitched as he approached, and she sniffed again. Her ears went flat and her tail went bushy. A glare grew on her face, sniffing again as he approached.

"...A rival, nya…" Catmeat hissed out, circling around him as he approached and then following behind, sniffing all the while.

Don't make him laugh, cat, you ain't even in the running. Get the f*ck away from him before he backhands you.

—

He finally arrived back at homebase, the cat being smart enough to not get within arm's reach of him and thus beyond the reach of a potential retaliation for approaching. Shame too, he wanted to leave a real nasty bruise on that stupid f*cking face. She followed him for a couple blocks sniffing his wake and occasionally hissing out vulgarities, before finally leaving him the f*ck alone.

The rest of his trip was in relative silence, before finally he opened the door to the church and stepped through.

"Welcome back!" His employer called out happily, poking at the fireplace. They were running low on firewood, the broken furniture piles were getting rather small. Good thing they had just brought in a half-decent profit for the first time. "I see you're in some fancy new armor, it looks really good on you!"

"Hmm." Adam rumbled in reply, glancing around and noticing an absence. "Kid not back yet?"

"Not yet, no. You know where he is?"

"Guildmeat recommended he check the bargain bin before buying proper armor, so he's probably still doing that."

Tinytit* let out an offended gasp. "He's thrift-shopping without me?!"

His theory that all women liked thrift shopping for some reason continued to hold true, it seemed. She even called it out by name. He dropped his bag off by the side and began the relatively long process of removing his comforting armor. "The kid has a lecture scheduled with guildmeat, so no delve tomorrow. I'll be looking at catalogues, probably."

"Hmm…" His employer hummed, staring at him. "Your clothes are getting pretty worn out, but I don't think we have the money to get you more…"

Adam pointed over at his bag. "Guild bank statement for the familia account inside. Left-middle pocket."

His employer walked over with a curious hum, unbuckling the bag and pulling out the slip of paper inside. It took her about half a moment to glance at it before she froze. Adam continued to divest himself of his armor.

"F-fifty thousand…?"

"We hired some supporters, they were worth everything we paid them." Adam explained, shucking his breastplate off and setting it aside.

She continued to stare at the paper for a few moments, before her head mechanically trailed up to lock eyes with him. In those eyes blazed a fearsome determination.

"We are going shopping tomorrow." Her voice left no room for refusal. An iron queen that demanded absolute obedience to her commandments.

Adam snorted dismissively. "That was already the plan." He needed to see what these drops were good for, after all.

"We are going shopping for clothes and furniture." She elaborated.

"With the holes in the wall? The bugs will get to anything made of cloth." That's how bugs worked right? The synth-cloth was always ratty in the hab-blocks he cleared out in the past.

"We are going shopping for clothes and getting an estimate for housing repairs." She corrected herself.

"We're low on firewood." He pointed out.

His employer grunted once, glancing over at the fireplace briefly, before nodding. "I need to write all this down, before I forget." She mused, moving over to get out the parchment and quill again.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

"What the f*ck are you wearing?"

Scrappy grinned, twisting to show off all angles before the two of them, then replying. "Armor! I found it thanks to Eina-san's help. It was only nine-thousand nine-hundred valis, can you believe it?" Hestia politely clapped for the kid, then trailed off when she noticed he wasn't following her lead.

Adam stared at the thing the kid was wearing. A black bodysuit underlayer combined with several disparate plates of metal. Knee-guards, plates on the sides of the hips, plates for the outer forearms and elbows, a curved plate for the upper torso and a bit of the neck, and plates for the upper shoulders.

"Yep." Adam drawled with an unimpressed expression. "You bought about a third of a proper set of armor for about half the cost. You got scammed." He was going to have to follow the kid around on future shopping sprees, wasn't he? Fun times.

"I-it's not a scam! The underlayer is durable without being inflexible, and the plates are in all the places they need to be to protect the vitals! It's protective without being too heavy!" Scrappy tried to excuse, pointing at himself in various places.

Adam stood up, walking over and pointing. Scrappy followed the direction of his finger.

Adam took the chance to harshly poke him in the unplated stomach. There was some resistance from the underlayer, but not enough to negate his thrust. Scrappy bent inwards to defend himself. "Gah! Adam-san!"

Adam poked him again, this time in the similarly exposed armpit. Scrappy staggered back, doing his best to flail and protect his vitals. "A-adam-san! Stop!"

Adam poked him again, this time in the exposed side of the neck. Scrappy let out another yelp, falling to the floor and curling up. "I get it! I get it! S-stop please!"

Adam kneeled next to the kid, staring at him with a blank expression. The kid stayed curled up for a moment, before cautiously uncurling, staring at him in preparation for another life lesson.

Adam poked him in the stomach again.

"Gah!" The kid cried out, rolling once in a curled up-manner to retreat from his repeated pokes.

"Alright, you made your point, stop bullying Bell-kun." His employer intervened, grabbing his attacking forearm with both hands and giving him an expression that was intended to be reproachful. Unfortunately, the amusem*nt in her eyes negated any chance of that scolding glance having any effect.

"You spend the rest of your money yet kid?" Adam asked.

"N-no." The now-traumatized Scrappy replied, still curled up and protecting his vitals.

"You're buying some guild chain too. Put it between the underlayer and plates." Adam dictacted flatly. "If you're going to buy armor, you're going to buy useful armor."

"W-wouldn't that slow me down? It's not like I needed armor up until now anyways."

"We've been killing kids, dogs, and lizards." He pointed out, ignoring his employer's grunt at the naming sense. He was calling them what they are, woman. "And you still need a heal potion every few hours. You need proper armor, and you need to get used to the weight. What you're wearing right now is fashion, not armor. You trying to look pretty for your girlfriend?"

Scrappy blushed and waved his arms in denial. His employer turned a focused and baleful eye towards him.

"I-it's not like that, stop saying that before people get the wrong idea!"
"...girlfriend? Please tell me my other child isn't out playing hooky too, is he?"

Nodding nonchalantly, Adam explained for Tinytit*. "Guildmeat has the most obvious crush on the brat in the world. Kid refuses to acknowledge it."

"I told you Eina-san isn't like that!" Kid was getting frantic in his red-faced denials. "She's just looking out for me as an advisor should!"

Adam and Tinytit* stared at the kid for a moment, before turning to each other.

"She's pining after my Bell-kun?" His employer asked for clarification, brows furrowed and serious.

"Shamelessly." Adam answered, ignoring the kid's wails of denial in the background.

"I think I'll need to have a talk with this 'Eina-san'." Tinytit* growled out, fist clenched and the hint of a smile on her face, not that the kid could see. "If she thinks she can seduce my child, she needs to go through momma Hestia first!"

Adam snorted. The kid curled up and let out a long, embarrassed groan.

"You do anything else on your shopping date, except waste money?" Adam asked, not expecting much.

There was silence instead. Adam narrowed his eyes. The kid stayed carefully curled up, face to the floor, hiding his expression and not moving.

"What did you do?" Adam corrected himself with a glowering question.

"So…" The kid sheepishly began, rising from his curled position and pushing up to his knees. "You know how we made a lot of valis today, after you hired some supporters?"

"Yes." Adam confirmed, a glare of suspicion on his face.

"After I found the armor. I thought it was really good, especially for the price." Scrappy instinctively raised his hands to defend himself again. "So I went and found the person who made it, someone named Welf Crozzo-san."

Adam stayed silent, waiting for the kid to get to the point. He was starting to develop a suspicion of where this was going.

"As it turned out, he's a level one adventurer too! And he was looking for a party to join on his trips down into the dungeon!"

"So you invited him." Adam rumbled out in an unimpressed manner.

"I saw that we made a whole lot more today, so having someone else there to help up kill monsters would make our profit go up even more, right?"

Adam looked for signs of duplicity for a moment, before grunting as he realized the kid was indeed just dumb, not trying to sabotage their operation. Sighing deeply, he ground out. "Kid, how do you know he's not just going to slow us down?"

"He-he said he's been past floor ten before, and that he's been an adventurer for way longer! That means he's good enough to keep up right?"

"He said. He could be lying. Assuming he's good enough to keep up." Which he doubted, meatbags never were. "Is he good enough to actually make more profit than what he takes out in revenue share?"

"...uhhh." The kid wasn't following.

"Our current contract with the supporters has them take thirty percent. Any more and we start to lose more money than they help us earn. If you add another meatbag, assuming they are indeed not a waste of meat, then you lower the profit by another twenty-three percent. Three way split of post-supporter share for the murderers. So instead of taking home seventy percent of the profit, we take home forty-six percent."

"Is the meatbag good enough that the forty-six percent with it is more than the seventy percent we were making without it?" Adam growled out, irritated that no one else seemed to be teaching the brat basic economic theory here.

"I-I beli-"

"Do you have any proof of that beyond what they said?" Adam interrupted with a growl.

"...No." Scrappy turned in on himself, embarrassed. His little attempt to help was potentially eating into their bottom line.

…They'd need to expand eventually, he supposed, and the kid already asked this random f*ck to join on. An unexpected pain in the ass, but hardly a disaster in the making. It was entirely possible that this random addition to their daily dose of murder would actually be useful. Adam doubted that, but it was certainly possible.

"We'll test him out one day. If he's worth a damn he can come back again. If he's not I'm telling him to f*ck off."

"But first! Today is shopping day!" His employer interrupted with a raised finger. "Bell-kun! When do you have your 'advisory meeting' with this 'Eina-san'?" The tone indicated faint lingering suspicion.

"Ah, in the evening around six. After her work hours."

"Then get washed and dressed, both of you! We're going out, and I'm spoiling my familia today!"

"With money we earned." Adam grunted in amusem*nt, standing up from his held kneel.

"Shush!" His employer commanded, a bright smile on her face. "I have a list!"

Adam rumbled, Scrappy chuckled.

—

"Can I help you to-"

"I know more than you." Adam cut off with a firm dismissal, ignoring the salesmeatwoman and walking deeper into the clothing store. Ignoring her vaguely offended huff and his employer's quick apologies for 'her delinquent familia member'. Don't apologize to her, Tinytit*, she has purple hair. It looks ridiculous.

He would be the first to admit that he didn't know jacksh*t about old-timey clothes-shopping, and was under the impression that it was a somewhat more involved process from all the corporate propaganda about the wonders of mass-production. Clearly that didn't stop this place from just having clothing stores anyway.

He would be the first to admit, however, that he knew fashion. More than some meatgirl with purple-ass hair ever could, at the very least.

"Adam!" His employer hissed out, trailing behind him and followed by Scrappy's awed footsteps. "Don't be rude to the customer service!"

"I wasn't being rude. I was stating a fact." He drawled out, footsteps carrying him steadily through rows of hanging clothes to the men's section of 'Arachne's Sumptuaries', apparently yet another corp but this one focused on the mass-manufacture of clothing. Or maybe 'high fashion' bullsh*t too, he wasn't sure and didn't really care.

High fashion is dogsh*t, anyone wearing it was an idiot.

"When did you become an expert on fashion then? You've been wearing the same ragged shirt for a week!" His employer growled out at him, still annoyed that he had dismissed the chaff apparently.

"I already know exactly what looks good on me. All I need to do is find it."

"And if you don't find it? Maybe they have it in the back or something!"

"Then I leave and go somewhere else, either way I don't have to put up with some meatbag trying to sell me something." Having reached the men's section, he began his search. Waving a dismissive hand at his employer and the kid, he spoke. "Go use the kid as a dress-up doll for a bit, I'll be over once I finish looking."

"Grr… I wanted to use both of you as dress-up dolls!" His employer growled out, shaking a fist in his general direction. "And now I don't have a fellow woman to chat with as you two get dressed!"

"Goddess-sama?!" Scrappy yelped as she admitted her actual goal. The only way to avoid it was to already know what you're looking for, otherwise you'd get your time wasted looking at sh*t you weren't ever going to buy.

"Good luck kid." Adam commented, evaluating the pair of pants he was holding for a moment, comparing it to his frame, and then folding it to put back. This section was too small. Seeing that she wasn't going to convince him to wear a bunch of nonsense any time soon, Tinytit* cut her losses and dragged Scrappy off by the hand to a different section.

That waste of time avoided, Adam focused his efforts on finding acceptable old-timey alternatives to his old black leather days daily wear, he already had steel-toed boots on. No need to worry about finding any of those.

They didn't have socks that he was familiar with, but they did woolen knee-high things. The other alternative were the kinds of socks that women wear when they want to feel sexy, but in the men's section for some reason. He ignored it and grabbed seven pairs of the knitted-wool kinds.

They didn't have any proper leather pants, but they did have a sort of loose pants equivalent that had space for a belt and black leather chaps, so he grabbed seven pairs of both from the box they had under that shelf. He ignored the eyes of the purple-haired salesmeat suspiciously watching him from a distance.

Calm down meat, if he was going to rob you, he'd come by at night and kill the witnesses first. On another note, they were relatively well stocked here, so it must not be worth robbing them or they had decent security.

Their shirts were all these relatively loose affairs, with numerous laces along the sides of the sleeves and middles in order to tighten them up. This seemed annoying, but then he realized that all the shirts only came in about half the normal set of sizes, which greatly simplified his future shopping. Seven white loosey-lacy shirts were added to the bundle in his arms.

There was no need for diversity in fashion, you find one look that you can wear every day if needed, and you stick with it for the rest of your life. Anyone who claimed you need different sets for daily wear was trying to sell you something.

Now the last part to complete the look, seeing if they had any…

He moved to the 'overwear' section, ignoring the salemeat that thought she was being sneaky behind him. The coats were mostly ostentatious nonsense, with long trailing tails or fancy buttons or an integrated hood. If he needed to keep the rain off, he'd wear a hat. There were numerous cloaks, several capes, an assortment of what he could only assume was fetish-wear, and…

There, that one is good enough. Something that almost looked like a black leather jacket, open in the center with a wide folded collar and an integrated belt to hold it closed across the torso. It cut off at the shoulders, allowing his arms to be mostly exposed wearing it, were it not for the long-sleeves of the shirt he would be wearing underneath.

It had a weird flower-like pattern at the ends instead of just cutting off, but it was good enough. He grabbed seven and finished his stack of new garments. Daily wear now complete sans underwear, which it looks like they didn't have here, he scanned the store looking for his employer and the kid.

The salemeat yelped as his gaze passed over her, face contorting into a defensive haughtiness. He ignored her and kept looking, now focusing on sound instead.

…There they were. He made his way over, passing by the salesmeat without bothering to acknowledge her. If she wanted something she'd speak up so he could ignore her more thoroughly.

"Do a spin! I have to see your other side too!" His employer eagerly commanded in the distance.

"O-okay." Scrappy's voice was quieter, nervous. "A-are you sure this is clothes for men, Goddess-sama?"

"Absolutely! Old kings used to wear stuff like this, you know! Now twirl!"

Adam rounded the corner, stack of clothing in hands, and bore witness to what torments the kid was being put through. Apparently that involved high heels, silk stockings, a skirt, corset, low-cut shirt, puffed sleeves, and lace collar and cuffs.

Glancing over to the stack of clothing on the side, they weren't done yet. More importantly…

"Where'd you find the leather pants?" He asked, startling the both of them. Tinytit* shrieked and fell off the bench she was luxuriating upon, and Scrappy staggered back to cover himself with his hands.

"D-don't sneak up like that!" Tinytit* complained with a scarlet face, pulling herself up again and pointing a dramatic finger. "I nearly had a heart attack! How are you so quiet! It's not fair!"

"Practice. The pants?" Adam brought the attention back to the subject matter.

"Wait! I need to see what you got first! Go in and put it on!" Tinytit* commanded with a stern look.

"It'll look better with leather pants. Where did you find them?" Adam growled out, matching her look with one of his own. Eventually, he came out victorious yet again as she clicked her tongue and pointed.

"Two lanes down on the right. In the 'divine treasures' section. Then come back here and put it all on so I can see!" The f*ck kind of name was that for a clothing store section?

Adam nodded, moving to the section to look, before turning around and glancing at the unmoving kid. He turned a flat look to his employer, who fidgeted under the gaze.

"Stop making the kid dress like a girl and get him some actual clothes." He rumbled, not wishing to spend much longer here than he had to. Turning around and walking over to the supposed section, he realized why he didn't see them earlier.

Apparently 'tight leather pants' was a sex thing here. It was true back home too, he supposed, but they put it in the same section as the lingerie instead of with the other pants for some reason. Said section also included swimsuits, which apparently were exactly the same as back home.

Did they have this kind of stuff in oldy-times? He didn't know and thinking about it he realized he didn't care either.

Most of these were for women, looking through them, but there was a smallish men's section over by the side which had the requisite black leather pants required to complete the look.

Finding the pairs in his size by comparison, he grabbed seven more. Then he separated out the trousers and chaps from the rest of his pile, stacked it in his other arm, and moved to return…

The salesmeat was staring at him. Grunting, he walked over and dropped the clothes he was going to put back on her head, then moved on. He ignored the yelping behind him and made his way back to his employer and the kid. Congratulations salesmeat, you were slightly useful once, now stop following him.

Thankfully for the sake of not wasting his time, the kid was no longer wearing male prostitute-wear and was in another outfit that made him look like a puffed-up exotic bird.

"Put it on! Put it on!" Tinytit* commanded, getting up and shoving him in the direction of the changing rooms. Trying to, at least, he was much heavier and stronger than her, so it was more like he walked over there than any kind of push.

Entering the room, he went through the motions of taking off his worn daily wear and putting on the things he still hadn't paid for yet. Strip then dress. It took a bare few minutes to do so, acquainting himself with using buckles, laces, and buttons instead of the vastly more convenient zippers.

It had been a while since he had dressed up in his old style, or at all, really. Warframes didn't need clothes, and he had been living in one for a few decades. No need to wear anything at all in it. He left the top laces undone for effect, a deep cleavage to show off the upper torso, the ladies liked that.

He was missing a comb, his hair was a mess. The look wasn't complete without a properly groomed pompadour.

Stepping out, the rest of his clothes in hand, he was met with his employer and the salesmeat chatting, before going quiet when they looked over at him. He raised a brow, and glanced around.

The kid walked out of another changing room, this time in something slightly more presentable but mostly ridiculous, and smiled as he saw Adam. "It looks great Adam-san! You weren't kidding when you said you know this fashion stuff."

Adam snorted. "Lying is for meatbags kid, I'm above it." He nodded his head to the side, moving over and dropping the rest of his clothes on Tinytit*. "Now come on, let's get you wearing something respectable and get out of here."

"Can do!" The kid sounded happy to be away from their employer's tyrant clutches.

Walking away, he heard salesmeat mutter. "Gods above, what an ass..."

Pft. Insult him to his face next time, meat, he might take you seriously.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

"What can you make with these?" Adam grumbled, pouring out the items looted from the other day's delve on the table in front of Shortstack. It wasn't a lot, maybe nine bits of monster-corpse in all, but it was enough to fill a good portion of the table.

Next to him, the kid stood in his almost-armor, waiting for the verdict with a look of anticipation.

Shortstack, having scheduled a half-hour to give him a quote on potential new gear, raised her brows and started picking up items, inspecting them for a bit before moving on to another drop on the table. "You've been saving up for awhile, haven't you? Giving me such a big load." She spoke seriously, but the glint in her eyes indicated that she was phrasing it that way on purpose.

Snorting once, he corrected her. "Nope. That's from the day before yesterday's delve. We've been selling everything so far."

She blinked once, glancing at him with furrowed brows, then glancing at the small collection of items on the table. "This is from one trip? How long do your trips down last?"

"About twelve hours each. That's from level five with dedicated supporters backing us." He rumbled out, crossing his arms in front of his comfortably-plated chest.

She hummed once. "...Supporters eh? Word of advice, I'd be careful around them, if I were you." Adam narrowed his eyes and started paying slightly more attention.

"Wait, why is that? They were really helpful and nice." Scrappy asked, confused.

"They were Pallums right? If you hired them from outside the familia." Shortstack questioned, receiving a nod of confirmation from Scrappy before continuing. "It's mostly just a bad reputation, but supporters are usually considered opportunists, especially Pallum supporters. 'They'll lead you to an early grave and pick your corpse.' or something like that."

And because it was their common reputation, many embraced it, furthering the bad reputation. He'd seen it a few times before.

"That's not fair!" Scrappy protested.

Shortstack nodded in agreement. "It ain't fair, you're right, but that's the way it is. More importantly though… they might have the Looter skill."

"Looter?" Adam asked, brows raised with the potential to make more money hinted at.

"It's a skill that increases the rate at which drop items spawn."

"The catch?" That was a great skill, he should hire someone with it if he could.

"You only unlock it by stealing a whole f*cking lot." Shortstack grumbled, shifting her weight and doing interesting things to her chest. "I've heard you had to rob a man's property, his wallet, and his corpse to earn it, but that's only rumor." That ain't much of a dealbreaker, Shortsmith.

"Why bring it up?" Scrappy asked, not following the train of logic. The answer being 'one of the supporters might be a notorious thief and try to betray them for a quick buck'.

"Normally, a run down to the dungeon? Twelve hours might not give you anything at all, let alone… nine drops. You might have a Looter with you, and that's a pretty precarious situation to be in. Rumor has it every Looter is part of some crime circle down in Daedalus street."

Of course, they didn't need to worry about this. Because their drops were consistent with the delves they went on before they had the SS with them, Scrappy was simply lucky.

Adam had no plans on telling Shortsmith this though, corporate secrets were corporate secrets, and he had money to make.

"If they betray us, I'll just kill them and move on." Adam had checked the laws concerning deaths in the dungeon the other day. Loose was the best word, and that was a very good word. Whole dungeon was a combat zone. Shortsmith raised a brow at him.

"I-" Scrappy piped up, concerned and conflicted expression on his face. "C-can't we just ask them to not steal from us instead?"

Adam raised both brows at the kid, letting the rest of his face rest flat. "You may not care about your wallet kid, but I do. Letting meatbags get away with backstabbing you just encourages others to do the same, then you have to deal with more of them robbing you for the rest of your life. It's pest prevention. Basic rep management here."

"Your wallet? Not your life?" Shortsmith huffed in an amused fashion. Scrappy's face kept the conflicted expression as he looked down and away, thinking hard about common sense.

"I'm Adam f*cking Smasher." Was all he gave in response, before pointing at the items on the table. "Drops woman, what can you do with them?"

"You got some frog teeth, frog skin, fingerblades, and a shadow mask. Making proper adventurer gear means taking out some of the…" Shortstack waved her hand in a circle for a moment, cycling through words. "Traits? Character? Personality? You take some of the bits of the original monster, isolate it, bolster it, then apply it to an object. Goblins are annoying little buggers that aren't that much of a threat alone, but leave a bunch of scratches until they kill you. I took that bit of the goblin-stuff, put it in some forge-fires while I was hammering out a sword, and out comes Gobrist there." She pointed a finger at Scrappy's sword, currently sheathed.

"It's not a precise thing, not every smith forges the same way, so not every weapon comes out the same even if they both use the same idea and make the same kind of item." She shrugged. "It's hard to explain to someone who ain't a smith. Looking at what you have here, I have some ideas, but I'd need to think on it for a bit before the right inspiration hits."

"I just need estimates, woman, not a finished product." Adam grumbled, taking note of the information and storing it away for the moment, returning back to his original goal yet again. "What are your ideas?"

She hummed, running her fingers over the items again. "Frogs… I know a few of my fellow high-smiths claim frogskin makes for decent leathers. Frogskin helps against poison for some reason and resists fire better than most thanks to the mucus, but that's pretty gross."

"The teeth might help you hurt bugs? Frogs eat bugs, right?" She mused aloud, then moved on.

"The fingerblades would make some great daggers, maybe swords but definitely not greatswords or anything else. They'd probably be pretty quiet too, in case you need to start assassinating folks for some reason." She shot a look his way, and Adam ignored it with ease. Scrappy was still too lost in thought to comment.

"The mask though… War Shadows don't have eyes, you know? They see with some sort of weird sense. I bet I could make a mask or helmet that gives you that, I know one of my drinking buddies did it once, but it got returned because it was pretty uncomfortab-"

"Make that." Adam cut her off, already knowing what he was getting. He knew full well the value of additional sensors, and the itch of beingblindwas getting to him. "See if you can make it fit under a normal helmet, if not, just make it a normal helmet."

"Hold on now." She replied, waving a smithing hammer at him with a smile. "I need more than just this bit to make something like that. I'll need the metal for it too. And payment. I could just buy the metal for it, but that'll cost you extra, so you'll probably want to find it down in the dungeon if you want to save on valis."

"What is it?" He'd probably just buy it if the price was low enough, or if the drop was annoying enough to get.

"Adamantite, comes in ore-chunks from dragons. The earliest you can find it is from the Dungeon Lizards. Next is from the Infant Dragons, but that's down on floor twelve." Shortsmith explained. "If you can't find a chunk, I'll need a good two-thousand valis extra to buy some instead."

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. The last chunk they got the Guild offered four-hundred for, and the Hephaestus corp offered five-hundred. That was a four to five times jump in price. Downright generous of a bunch of corps, thinking about it. He rumbled in annoyance, but nodded his head. "And the final quote?"

Shortsmith hummed for a moment. "...You already have the mask here, so we'll give a discount on that… Call it eleven-thousand, five hundred. Thirteen if I need to buy the metal for it too."

"Call it a flat ten or twelve thousand and I'll f*ck you on your anvil again." He gave a counter-offer.

"A-Adam-san!" Scrappy finally came back to reality in time to sound shocked at the offer.

"Deal!" Shortsmith agreed with a grin. "You want me to keep the mask in my lockbox for now? I don't know if you have one of those in that church of yours."

Adam grunted. Yeah that was probably a good idea.

—

"So you're the senpai? Good to meet you, call me Welf." The smith who indirectly scammed Scrappy wasn't much to look at. A bit on the short side, red-haired, and wearing eastern-style robes that didn't seem to have any armor underneath. On his back an overly large sword was secured, although Adam hadn't seen his back yet so he didn't know exactly how. The lack of armor or shield and two-handed weapon implied a style reliant on dodging and decisive blows that ended the enemy quickly. The lack of armor meant that he couldn't trade effectively either, so the moment he comes across a fast enemy that takes more than one hit, he risks injury.

Injury means less effective combat performance, which means less effective blows and dodging, which means he probably dies real quick after that first hit is sustained. High stopping power, potentially high mobility, poor sustainability. Adam killed hundreds of wannabe legends back in Night City exactly like this one.

They weren't built to endure.

Adam ignored the offered hand and explained in a professional manner, an equally professional disdain on his face and in his voice. "Scrappy invited you on without verifying jacksh*t, so this is a trial run. If you're a burden, you're not coming back." Currently, Scrappy was off talking to the supporters, Adam demanding that he go explain the new member of their little band to give him some time to have a private chat.

The scammeat frowned heavily at that, a glare forming on his face and hand dropping back to his side. "I ain't gonna be a burden. Especially not compared to adventurers who've only been at it a week." Notably, he didn't argue the terms, which was good enough for Adam. He really didn't care what scammeat thought of him.

Adam grunted in confirmation. "You'll be getting a third of the post-supporter cut and drops. Scrappy gets the first pick of the drops, then me, then you."

Scammeat's frown stayed on his face, but he nodded again in acceptance.

"You'll be allowed to use three of our healing potions if you need it, anything more will be coming from your own preparations. You also need to bring your own lunch and water, that will not be provided." Adam had restocked on off-stock and checked on the progress of the potions catalogue before arriving at the Tower. It still wasn't done, which was annoying.

Currently, they had eighteen potions in his bag, and he was down another fifteen thousand valis. He probably wouldn't need as many refreshers now that he had some proper f*cking armor though. The kid probably would though.

Scammeat's frown lightened somewhat, surprised by something, before nodding again.

"Further aid will be permitted on a pro-bono basis, but not contractually obligated. We'll be down there for twelve hours today, and every day except sundays, which was yesterday." He droned out.

"Twelve hours? That's a bit much for new level ones, ain't it?"

"We've been doing it every day since starting. That too much for you, meat?" His glare burned into the scammeat's eyes.

Scammeat's frown and determined glare redoubled. "Nah, That sounds right about perfect actually. I was just wondering if I found greenhorns that can actually get some work done."

Adam maintained his glare for another moment, before huffing through his nose and nodding. Congratulations scammeat, you held your own in a brief stare-down, the easiest test has been passed. "Any questions?"

"None." Scammeat growled out.

"You want it in writing?" Adam growled back.

Scammeat grunted. "The paperwork is a pain in the ass. I'd prefer your word instead."

Not a bad opinion to have. Adam nodded. "Scams are for meatbags, I'm above it. We'll be heading down to floor six today." Jerking his head over to where Scrappy was laughing with the SS, he continued. "Let's go."

Scammeat looked quizzical at him for a moment, before slowly nodding.

Walking over to the kid and the SS, Scrappy turned at some words and grinned brightly, waving a hand at the two of them. "I explained it! They said they were fine with it Adam-san!"

Adam grunted and turned a glance over at the Halfleader, who sent a meaningful glance back. Wasn't in the contract, but they weren't holding it against the kid, so this was under the pro-bono permittance clause. He nodded back

Old Mercs had ways of telling what the others were thinking.

"...you're wearing more armor." Scammeat spoke, a curious note of deliberate neutrality in his tone.

"Ah!" Scrappy rubbed the back of his neck. Plates of scammeat armor over guild chainmail and steel helmet secured on his head. "Senpai was worried I wasn't protected enough, so he asked me to wear more."

"I didn't ask. I told you." Adam grumbled out.

Scammeat gave a deliberate glance over at his nice suit of black guildplate. "I can see why you might think so. You've only been at this a week or so right? Traditional plate slows you down too much on the deeper floors, it's why the top adventurers usually only cover the vitals and leave the rest unobstructed."

"The top adventurers sound like dumbass meatbags." Adam replied with a frown, waving a hand and starting to move down the spiral staircase into the dungeon. "The correct amount of armor is always 'as much as I can carry and still move in', anything less is called being co*cky."

"You'll slow your growth too much if you rely on armor all the time." Scammeat countered. "If you never learn to take a hit, your endurance will never improve as fast as it needs to. Then you'll just die the moment you meet something that hits harder than your armor and you can't dodge thanks to said armor."

"You'll slow your growth down a whole lot more if you f*cking die, dumbass." Adam flatly replied. "You use armor for a reason, it's called staying alive."

"You don't become a legend without taking risks." Scammeat responded, heat in his tone as he repeated what was apparently oft-recited local wisdom.

"You could fill a city with all the so-called legends I've watched die doing something stupid. They're a dime a dozen in the merc business." Adam turned a baleful glare behind him. "You want to be a legend, kid? You and every other dumbass in the world." Unlike last time, Scammeat wasn't quite able to maintain the facedown, glancing away with a frown.

Adam turned around again, and continued the descent. "Who knows, if you die in a really memorable way, they might name a drink after you." He rumbled out. "It's what they did back home. A little sh*thole bar named Afterlife ran by an old c*nt named Rogue who was smart enough to realize that being alive was preferable to going out in a blaze of glory. Turns out, being alive long enough also makes you a legend, but you get to enjoy it too."

"...how many drinks were there?" Scrappy asked quietly, walking behind Scammeat.

"Who knows?" Adam replied gruffly, letting his voice carry the sum total of his disdain. "I lost track at around three-hundred. Those were only the most famous ones too. Most don't even get that."

The rest of the trip down the spiral staircase was unusually quiet, which suited him just fine.

Welf Crozzo, Level 1 Adventurer, Hephaestus Familia

It was always the same story, again and again and again. He tries to assemble a group to help take him further down, they learn his last name is Crozzo, and their palms outstretch asking for crutches. Crutches made of straw. Crutches that only waste everyone's time.

Magic Swords, blades filled to the brim with elemental spirits, ready to be unleashed with a firm swing. Blades filled with so much magic that they crack through. Blades that might break every time you swing one due to how brittle they become. Everything else sacrificed in the name of greater and briefer power.

Utterly useless. The same power could be achieved with effort and time at far less cost, but the insistence on now poisoned the world. Then, the power fades, the sword shatters, and you die because you sacrificed everything for immediate strength. Immediate glory.

How could he make something so wretched, as a smith? How could he sleep after making something designed to shatter and fail when the user needs it? So he refuses, and the mood of those strangers he assembled turns sour. Disappointment, anger, bargaining, and more. The final result is always the same, however.

'Don't come back.'

So he pushed on his own, getting as far as he could in the Dungeon without aid from others. He was strong, blessed by the grace of Hephaestus and another before her, having lived and grown with this power since his early teenage years. Each day accumulating slightly more power, like filling a well with cups, he exercised, he smithed, he fought, he ate, he rested.

His muscles were bolstered with divinity, and nearly a thousand pounds he could lift and carry over his shoulders. His footspeed and reactions were on par with the mortal athletes of his home, and were getting swifter each day. His skin was like boiled leather, and the claws and teeth of goblins and kobolds could not reach him through it.

Floor Eleven is what stopped him each and every time. Hard Armored, Infant Dragons, Silverbacks. Those were not enemies a lone level one could overcome. He needed a team, or he needed tremendous luck. Only a fool relies on luck.

So he thickened his sword, and turned it into a great cleaver-blade. He exercised with anvils and carved lesser monsters into chucks. He accumulated slow and steady strength, the kind required to defeat the monsters of floor eleven and progress. Seeking allies the same as he always had, even if each attempt in that regard ended the same.

His blade cleaved through the tongue of a frog shooter, and he twisted into an approach, letting him bring his great blade up again for another downwards chop upon its head as it recoiled. His cleaver-blade had no name, it didn't need a name while it was still in his hands. A great thing, five or so feet in length and two finger-widths thick that made mockery of mortal blades and cleaved through the lesser monsters in a single swing.

He wasn't managing to keep up with a supposed freshly-graced adventurer.

Bell, he was managing to outpace through power and experience, though it was a closer thing than he was expecting. The rookie wielded two blades, one long and one short, and used them talentedly but not skillfully, not yet. The larger blade was slower to act, used defensively for the most part, and set up for the faster blade. Then, when the situation called for it, the larger blade was used for wide and powerful swings that cleaved into monsters but left the rookie vulnerable for a moment or two.

He was further slowed by the additional layers of armor, unused to moving in the combined bulk, though Welf was confident that he wouldn't have that problem if he simply used Pyonkichi Mk-II as is. The armor was allowing him to shrug off blows he wasn't quite managing to avoid yet, however. Armor like that would only last two blows against a monster from floor eleven.

Welf was managing to outpace the rookie in terms of defeated monsters, each swing of his great cleaver ending a life through its weight and his personal strength alone.

Welf was well-behind the supposed former mercenary. The man who seemed to be about his age, at most a handful of years older and just particularly youthful. He spoke and fought like the veterans that Welf knew in his youth. He insisted on the use of heavy armor, the kind that would limit the bending of the torso and rotation of the shoulders.

After a few floors down, Wlef had noticed the lack of weapons on the man save the arm-mounted crossbow and large bag. A man who insisted on staying well armored and at range of his enemies? Caution might let you survive, but few heroes stand back while battle rages on. His opinion of the fellow had shrunk again, but professionalism held his tongue.

Welf had mistaken a side-arm for a primary-arm. The man named Adam Smasher fought in a striking manner.

With fists and feet.

Well-armored arms exploding forwards, blurring as they moved, and each blow turning flesh and bone into hot gore, painting the walls and floors of the Dungeon. Monster-flesh bursting like ripe fruits as they were struck. The range of motion was still limited by the physical constraints of the armor, although that did little to slow the man down.

Twin fists burst forth three times, three Killer Ants died. Their shell was like pottery, shattering under mailed hands.

Momentum of each blow carried into another blow, efficiently turning monsters into corpses, sometimes skipping straight to a butchery by planting a fist into flesh and ripping out the core in a single motion. When a monster attacked from an angle that fists could not handle, the truly impressive moments began.

A shifting in weight brought the man backwards, flipping over to kick a war-shadow upwards and making it crash against a distant poison moth. Hands caught his momentum, then a flex and twist brought him around in a spin-kick that shattered mandibles and rightened him once more.

Kicks, leaps, spins, movements not technically constrained by the inflexible plates but not ones any would consider effective in the midst of a chaotic clash. Inefficient and tiring feats of athletics, in the midst of a matter of life or death? Punches leading into kicks leading into backflips leading into stomps leading into…

It never stopped once beginning, a tall figure in black plate turning every motion into a killing-motion that led him closer to another target. Movement and violence unified. The armor was used as a weapon, adding to the weight of his blows, used actively to send oncoming claws aside, and crushing through enemies.

Welf had seen many in heavy armor fight and die before, in his homeland. Men in heavy armor did not move like this. Adventurers who still wore heavy plate, even level twos and threes that he had seen a time or two, did not move like this. Once he had seen a warrior from a distant land, wearing cloth and wrappings over deep wrinkles and a foreign tongue. That warrior did not move like this, fighting evasively and with minimal effort required for each action.

The man named Smasher fought like nothing Welf had ever seen. Every time he attacked, something died. Every time he moved, he attacked. As long as there was a monster present, he did not stop moving.

Blows were rarely dodged, usually only ignored by virtue of the heavy plate he wore, giving him the ability to focus utterly on attacking. Claws scrapped over metal, tongues were grabbed and used as leverage, mandibles crushed and shattered, horns snapped off. Only the moths and papilos were given the honors of proper weapons, each slain with a single well-placed bolt from the arm-crossbow before their dander could spread.

He swung again, and cleaved a war shadow at the waist, sending halves to either side behind him, the lower body quickly burning to ash as it moved. He swung again, and cleaved another shadow from the shoulder to the hip. His arms were beginning to tire with exertion. His pride refused to let him slow down.

Moreover, the monsters pouring into their front demanded a constant and brutal pace. The sixth floor had an entrance to the first monster pantry, a towering crystal in an equally massive room that staked through both floors seven and six. Sometimes used as a hunting spot for rare monsters, sometimes used as an alternative route down to floor seven, sometimes used for other purposes.

The man named Smasher had seen it, and decided that the best course of action would be to clear it out completely. 'That would make the most of this trip'. He had declared. Welf had a mind to protest, but he had no chance of swaying a vote, and no mind to prove himself a burden.

The walls behind them were utterly exhausted by their slow advance, something that would apparently allow them to handle pass parades should they come upon them. Performing this same tactic against the onslaught of monsters coming from the pantry and into the narrower corridor that they were situated in, Welf could see exactly how it could work.

They had set up in the second row, behind Adam, to guard the Pallum supporters he had hired behind them. Adam had gone to the entrance, and had shouted furious taunts into the pantry until the swarms began to descend upon him, and made a fighting retreat back into the corridor.

It was like watching hell open up behind him as he returned to them. Like a tidal wave of monsters of all kinds from the sixth and seventh floors. Like a dam had broken and a river of monstrous flesh was rushing towards them.

More striking was how that wave crashed into 'Senpai' and broke against his fists.

It was sobering to realize that the kid, Bell, had not been exaggerating how effective his other familia member was.

He had actually been downplaying the man.

He swung in a wide arc, his cleaver-blade turning two war-shadows into halves, and stomped back to avoid the mandibles of a killer ant. His arms twisted, his sword came up overhead, then crashed down. The killer ant was split in half at the head.

Another stomp back, then a swing. A fighting retreat back into already-exhausted and thus safer walls. Already they had left a hallway of corpses nearly knee-high, more gore and viscera than Welf had seen in any place but one. Here there was no soil to absorb the blood, which instead flowed like a sluggish river under their feet.

"Frogs at our backs!" the veteran tone of one of the Pallum supporters, a man named Tomas, called out.

Two fists turn two monsters into sprays of gore. "Scrappy, handle it!" The gore-stained man in black plate snarled out behind him, adjusting his backwards pace to cover the left side of the hall more than he had been and freeing Bell to go to the back. It seemed like every line was a growl, rumble, grumble, or snarl. Nothing light came from those lips.

Which meant Welf was no longer just handling a flank, but rather half of the tidal wave of monsters.

He spat as he stepped back. Fine by him. His cleaver needed room to cut.

He swung again, and weighty steel carved into three unfortunate monsters, sending them to the ground. He was used to fighting alone regardless, weaker monsters like these weren't an issue, not when they were limited by the scale of the hallway itself. The only issue was, could he last long enough to kill them all?

It was like trying to fight a river with a sword.

That it was working wasinvigoratinghim.

The man had been lying earlier, it seemed, speaking about how trying to carve a legend was a foolish endeavor. Because if this wasn't something heroic, wasn't something legendary, what the hell was it? What the hell was his homeland like, if this was 'common sense'? Strategy and skill that let three men fight an army of monsters andwin.

He didn't know when he started laughing, only that his sword had started to swing itself about halfway through, Bell had returned to the front again, and once more a river of monsters was crashing against a triangle of steel.

This Adam fellow was a complete ass, but damn if he didn't know his stuff when it came to fighting.

He swung, and cleaved another two rabbits as they leapt at him.

War-shadow claws carved a thin groove into his hip. He ignored it, stomping back to swing and cut the offender in two. He'd check the wound later, when they had the time. One of the several wounds that now littered his body. The river of monsters gave him no reprieve to drink a healing potion, not yet.

If he was going to get into fights like these more often, he'd have plenty to afford new equipment. No wonder Adam had insisted on heavier mail, fighting like this all the time. If he was a fresh level one, he'd need way more armor to survive this too.

A horn scrapped against his arm, a backhand sent the horn rabbit flying to crash against the wall. A swing of his cleaver crashed into a frog and split it into halves.

He might still need more armor to survive things like this, thinking about it. It might be worth investing some hours into later.

—

Tomas Barleycorn, Level 1 Supporter, Orcus Familia

"You want to come by the Hostess of Fertility with us? It'll be my treat this time!" The white-haired kid, Cranel, was a real good sort. Tomas could be quite certain of that. A bright smile always persistent on his face, never a rude thing to say about others, dreams about being a hero and a talent with the sword. He was the kind of kid Orario chewed up and spat out.

Tomas raised a tired hand and waved it off with a polite smile. "Maybe next time kid, it's been a long shift for us Pallums, we got to walk faster to keep up with your tall'uns. The only thing on our minds is heading home and hitting the hay."

The kid didn't look too disappointed at that, accepting the excuse with a grin and a sheepish rub of his neck. Not a single hint of suspicion in that body of his. Tomas hoped nothing too bad happened to the lad.

"Same time tomorrow?" The taller one, on the other hand, Tomas was quite certain was an old hand at murder. He moved like an old kneebreaker, a casual sort of mannerism that wouldn't mind shattering your legs with a sledgehammer if he felt like he needed to. It was in the eyes, you see, the eyes and the shoulders when a man walked.

Well that and how the man laughed when he tore monsters apart, that part made it pretty obvious. Tomas was also quite certain that the man was a consummate professional underneath all the gruff and casual insults, the way he handled the contract-making and delves thus far? Not a single violation of their contract so far, not even the minor ones. The closest they had gotten was when the Cranel kid went off and got another to add to their little band, and Smasher had made sure they were paid first before anything else.

"Either we or three of our associates will be here on time, we had a contract after all…" Tomas trailed off, nodding his head back and forth once, before continuing. "Ten percent per supporter isn't scalable, Mister Smasher, I'm sure you know."

The entirely too young professional murderer nodded and dictated terms. "We'll renegotiate shares once the operation expands. For now, it works." Generous early payments to hook them followed by demonstration of potential gains and putting the impetus of their payment worsening on the contingency of additional aid. The kid was entirely too used to this business.

Tomas smiled all gentle-like, and nodded politely. "Just thought I'd inform ya, never hurts to be helpful. If that'll be all, we'll be heading on out now."

Smasher nodded, and Cranel waved goodbye enthusiastically. He and his fellows made their ways out of the Tower and started for the long-route.

"Details on the smith the kid invited?" Susanna asked casually.

"Welf Crozzo. From Rakia. Can potentially make magic swords due to bloodline resurgence but refuses to do so. Otherwise average adventurer." Finlay recited with his usual mask of sleepiness still firmly on his face. "Drank four healing potions in total today, ate a ration of hardbread and salted pork during his lunch, keeps his canteen in his bag. Strength good, speed middling. Favored by his familia captain."

"Nothing to worry about then." Susanna declared. "You're handling the chat with the boss again Tomas?"

"It's my job after all." Tomas responded with a nod. "You two be in the bar if he wants me to call you up, but otherwise enjoy yourselves."

"Got it."
"Sounds good."

The two replied in near-unison. Soon enough, they had reached the nice and confusing alleyways of Daedalus street. Walking down old and familiar paths, he noticed an uptick in activity down in the twelfth section. He'd ask about it later.

Reaching the pallum-sized doors of a sleepy bar, he knocked twice. A slide in the door opened up, and familiar eyes met his gaze.

"Tomas?"

"Tipperary."

The door opened up, letting the three of them inside the pallum-scale bar. He tipped his helmet as he passed the others, who raised their glasses in salute. Susanna and Finlay split off from him, and he made his way over to a door in the back. A pallum man was standing there with a club on his belt.

"Tomas. Boss is inside, said he brought some pipes with him."

Tomas gave a smile, removing his helmet fully and placing it in the crook of his arm. "Thank ye Chistopher. We'll have a drink once you're off, alright?"

"Sounds good by me." The door was opened, and Tomas stepped through into the cozy looking backroom. A brick fireplace on one end, a chute leading out to help ventilate the place. A short table for drinks and smoking, and a door on the side leading to the kitchen.

Tomas walked over to the center and stopped politely.

The figure on the other side of the table exhaled pipesmoke, then spoke. "Tommy-boy… go ahead and take a seat, help yourself to the pipeweed and drink. My treat."

Tomas moved over to the other long-chair, gently setting himself down and placing his helmet on the floor next to the chair. "Sorry about the messy gear, Pops. I'm fresh from down under right now."

"Oh…? Don't worry about that. One of the maids will handle the stains. Go on, have a smoke."

Tomas took off his armored gloves, and took up one of the long pipes provided. Then taking the provided scoop to add a portion of the crushed weed to the pipe, and striking a match to lit the whole affair.

Puffing once, then twice, he exhaled gently. It was the good stuff, Pops was in a good mood.

"Now… You went down again today, with that same group of rookies. Tell me how it went." It wasn't really a question, not that Tomas had any interest in refusing to answer.

When Pops asks you something, you answer.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

"What can you make with these?" Adam asked, pouring out their bag of drop items onto the counter at the Blue Pharmacy, having already restocked on requisite potions and asked if the catalogue was ready yet. It was not, as it turned out, to his utter lack of surprise. Scrappy was next to him, bouncing on his heels in residual excitement from his purchases earlier that morning.

They had already shown off their plundered bits to Shortstack, and most of what she could do with them was not particularly useful to them. Butterfly bits could apparently be used to make a blanket that sped natural recovery for those who slept with it, as in, from months to weeks to heal a broken arm. Moth bits could be used to make weapons that secrete a mild poison, about as effective as the poison moths poison itself, which wasn't very. Ants could be used to make armor that shattered after one good hit, but made ants less aggressive towards you. Things of that nature.

He ended up commissioning a moth dagger for fifteen thousand. Every advantage, just if he came across something big. The kid also ended up commissioning something, two things in fact. A new dagger with rabbit horn, and a good luck charm of rabbit feet. Supposedly rabbit feet increased item drop rates, but Shortstack made sure to explain that was only rumor and had never been verified to her knowledge. Scrappy insisted that it worked, citing his grandfather again as a source for that information.

The rest of their fifteen or so bits of monster-stuff went back into the bag, and was now poured out across the countertop in front of Blueboy. Blueboy hummed in appreciation, picking up bits on the counter and automatically arranging them in the most space-efficient pattern possible. Like that old corporate training game for storage optimization, what was its name again?

Blueboy was about to start talking, before Adam raised a hand and cut him off again.

"What can you make with these that is actually useful or practical to make?" Adam rumbled out, correcting himself and preemptively cutting off whatever long winded ramble that Blueboy was about to go on.

Blueboy, to his credit, chuckled sheepishly, then began an explanation. Grabbing a section of warty skin and holding it up. "Frog skin is normally used to hold poisonous substances in, most of what you can make with it probably don't interest adventurers. Frog teeth can make a potion that lets you subsist off eating insects easier. If you had an eye I could make a batch of sight-bolstering brews but my old familia wasn't interested in much else from them."

Adam nodded, he'd check again when they got the catalogue done, just in case Blueboy was an airhead. Scrappy had a vaguely ill look on his face. "Eating bugs?"

"Aha." Blueboy rubbed the back of his neck, easy smile on his face and brows furrowed slightly. "Apparently it's a delicacy in some parts of the world, but I'm not sure If I have the stomach for it."

"Common back home. Never tried it myself." Adam commenced idly. Man was meant to eat meat and junkfood, not bugs. "Next?" He tapped the table once.

Blueboy nodded, reaching for the shadebits, and spoke again. "Shadow's don't have many drops, just their claws, masks, bones, and their tarflesh if you have a bottle ready to collect it. The claws could be used to make a potion that sharpens your fingernails for a few minutes, or an oil that you can rub on a blade to resharpen it without needing a whetstone. The bone here could be used to make a skeletal-reinforcer, mostly useful for healing broken bones quicker."

Blueboy nodded his head back and forth. "Not much else that you'd be interested in, I think." Setting the shadebits down again, he moved on to the next section of now-carefully organized chunks of monster with a smile. "The ant-shell could be used to make a skin-hardening cream that lasts most of the day. It's one of our best sellers among adventurers."

Adam made a note to get as much of that as he could. It wasn't as useful for those wearing proper armor, but every layer of protection counted.

"The mandibles can be turned into a jaw-bolstering potion, increasing the strength of your bites."

"What kinda person bites monsters to death?" Scrappy asked with an incredulous expression.

"There's always some meatbag doing stupid sh*t, kid." Adam explained. Blueboy nodded.

"There was this adventurer some years ago… Oh, what was his name… Zaid I think? He had a habit of eating monsters as he was fighting them. He had a skill that made him more powerful if he did that. He used to come by and buy out my whole stock of frog teeth and ant mandible brews when starting out." Blueboy chuckled. "Of course, most of the time we sell it to older customers, they need help chewing."

Adam waved a hand, gesturing for him to continue. Blueboy set the shadebits down and moved on. "Moth wings can be used to make antidotes and Papilo wings can be used to make healing potions, so I'll be happy to buy those off you if you don't want them."

"What about gas bombs." Adam asked, poking at the wing.

"Bombs…?" Blueboy trailed off, returning his gaze to the moth wing carried in gloved hands and furrowing his brows. "Like those powder bombs, right? The clay jars that burst when thrown?"

"Yes. Can you make something that turns into a poison cloud when I throw it? Same question for acid, and some kind of flammable oil or grease."

"Hmm…" Blueboy considered for another few moments. "My specialty is in medicine, so I'm not certain if I can, I don't think I've ever tried something like that before."

"If you can, I'll buy each for one-thousand." Adam bargained.

"Hey now!" Dogmeat called out, emerging from the back again quickly, stumbling once in her rush to emerge before gently pushing her employer aside and planting both hands on the countertop. His attention lasered in on the right hand, which made a very distinct sound. "This is entirely new territory, and a custom product to boot. The potential sales that could be lost from experimentation could cost us a lot you know? Three-thousand per clay-pot poison bomb, if we can manage it."

"Naaza-chan, one-thousand seeme-"

She cut off Blueboy by firmly planting a finger on his lips, eyes staring firmly into his own.

Bargaining huh? "No guarantee what you make is up to my standards. You could make something technically effective but practically worthless. One-thousand is being generous." He growled out, raising a finger of his own and waving it once, one hand resting in the crook of his arm.

"Adding in the costs of the pots, the straps to hold them, the product wasted in the experimentation phase? It could potentially be months before we start seeing returns on a custom product for a single customer. Twenty-five hundred."

"If you make something worth a damn you have a new unique product to advertise, something that other groups don't, and therefore you can list at a massive upcharge and still sell out. One-thousand two-hundred and fifty."

"Adding in the costs of effectively advertising a new and unique product, especially an untested one, in Orario of all places. We'd go broke trying to tap into an uncertain market at such a low initial price. Two-thousand."

Adam crossed his arms fully, staring at the dogmeat for a moment longer, then nodded. "I'll give fifty-thousand to cover research costs, then buy all future poison bombs at one-thousand." Scrappy made an astonished noise, Blueboy's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

She paused, working out the numbers in her head and chewing on her inner cheek.

He had already won the moment she hesitated to consider it. A one-time payment of fifty thousand was a significant amount if he had the prices right. However, their little band was pulling in several hundred thousand per day. A one-time purchase was something he could easily afford with his daily intake and would be significantly cheaper in the long run.

Eventually, she gave in and reached a hand out. He nodded in turn, grabbing her hand and shaking firmly. Keeping his eyes locked on her as their deal was struck.

He was right.

This hand was a prosthetic.

"I'll give the butterfly wing for free if you let me get a look at that arm." He added, withdrawing his hand and pulling out his checkbook. He ignored the immediate reactions and wrote out the required details on the guild promissory note for payment. "I've been looking to get rid of all this meat, I need to see what the local metal looks like first though."

"W-what? H-how did you…?" Dogmeat asked, he glanced up in a slightly annoyed fashion and tapped his shoulders.

"This meat annoys me with all its screaming. Back home the solution was common sense, just replace it with metal. I need to see how good the local stuff is, and how much it costs. Show me your arm and tell me how much you bought it for, and I'll toss in the butterfly wings for free."

"Y-you want to… remove your limbs and replace them with prosthetics?" Blueboy asked with a baffled tone. Adam turned a baleful eyes towards him.

"I just said that, meatbag. Pay attention."

"I-... You know that it doesn't improve with you, right? Eventually you'll be stronger than the prosth-" Blueboy attempted to warn.

"Then I'll commission a better prosthetic, dumbass." He glowered, stating the obvious. They had magic here, little reason why a limb can't be magicked up.

"Here." Dogmeat spoke softly, removing the glove on her hand with a neutral expression, and rolling up her sleeve. He turned his attention back towards her, and inspected the arm as it was thrust out.

"Naaza-chan…"

"A free wing for a look at my arm? That's cheap." Dogmeat growled softly, brows furrowed. She then yelped as he grabbed her arm and started evaluating it more closely, turning it about and judging it.

The limb was simultaneously more primitive and more advanced than he had been expecting. The outer shell was an overly elaborate and fancy thing, with fine engravings in silver showing off a bearded man bestowing an arm to two bowing people, then a bunch of nonsensical leafy patterns and swirls with writing in a language he didn't speak covering every inch. The more important features were the joints and the frame underneath.

They didn't use myomer here, the entire frame was a somewhat solid metal affair with ball joints that didn't seem to have any actuating elements. The ranges of motion were limited by the metal shell that covered most of the frame, purposely so from what he could tell, restricting the limit to normal human ranges of motion.

It also didn't seem to have anything in the way of additional features. Just to make sure though… "Any hidden weapons?"

"What?" She growled in confusion.

"Back home it was common to put a weapon or two into your limbs. Retractable blades, pop-up cannons, punching-rams, things like that. You don't have anything like that?"

"No." Dogmeat replied flatly. Adam rumbled in mild annoyance.

"How's it's performance?"

"It's heavy, cold, and the joints ache whenever it storms."

He waved that off. "Strength, flexibility, speed, durability."

"The maker said it was about on par with the average level four adventurer." Blueboy commented softly, watching the exchange with a worried-looking frown.

That didn't tell him jacksh*t. They apparently didn't practice using numbers here. He withdrew his hands, took off a gauntlet, and raised his palm. "Flick me, hard as you can."

Dogmeat stared at him for a moment, still glaring, before huffing once. Blueboy attempted to raise a hand to interrupt. "I'm not sure if that's a goo-"

Reaching her hand out, sheflicked.

His hand screamed at him as red painted his face. His palm caving inwards and back of his hand exploding outwards. He had to close his eyes as his blood splattered against his face.

"Adam!" Scrappy yelled in panic.
"Oh f*ck!" Blueboy uncharacteristically cursed, immediately rushing off towards the back.
Dogmeat immediately lurched back, grabbing her arm like it was a serpent and forcing it to her chest, eyes wide.

He grunted, keeping his hand still for a moment as he took in the sensation and promptly ignored it. Then he brought his hand down to inspect the damages. Dripping quite a bit, currently yelling at him, but the damage…

…About on par with getting shot with a handgun, from a flick. Palm now with a collapsed middle section and almost a hole going straight through out the back, brushing against now-wailing tendons that controlled his middle two fingers. Fairly impressive damage, most borgs would have trouble replicating that.

He hummed in satisfaction. Good strength for a prosthetic, the lack of auxiliary features was disappointing, but this power was more than enough to make up for it.

"How much did you pay for it?" He asked his last question, turning his gaze from the injury and towards Dogmeat. She stared for a moment, blinking once and shaking off some sort of stupor.

"W-what?"

Adam huffed out in annoyance. "The arm, dogmeat. How much did you pay for it?"

"I'll tell you if you use this right now." Blueboy spoke quite seriously, returning from the back and holding a potion up in front of him. "Pour this on your hand, on the wound, and I'll tell you."

"M-miach-sama!" Dogmeat almost protested, being cut off by Blueboy turning a sharp and serious look at her once, then back to him.

Adam grunted. "What is it?" He wasn't about to pour jacksh*t on himself without knowing what it was.

"Healing potion." Eh, good enough for him then.

Adam grunted, taking it and pulling the cork out with his teeth, slowly pouring it over the hand with a hole in it. The wound started itching quite badly, but he made sure to observe the entire process. The magic liquid reached the wound, trailed down into the deeper sections, and started from there. The tendons seemed to gleam for a moment, then scant flesh on the hand pulled itself back over the wound, then skin came to cover it with a fresh pinkish layer.

He only used half the bottle, so he handed it back.

Blueboy took it after a moment, before letting out a self-calming sigh. "That one wouldn't have worked, Bell-kun."

Adam turned an eye towards Scrappy, awkwardly holding up a health potion from the bag but having been ignored up until now. Scrappy coughed once, then awkwardly put the potion back into the side-pocket on Adam's dufflebag. "Why not?" He asked.

Blueboy briefly shook his head, re-capping the potion with a spare cork and explained. "Lesser healing potions can handle most injuries, restoring skin and muscle, but once the injury reaches proper tendon and bone you need a higher grade potion to restore the damage."

Useful information. He took note of it. "The cost?"

Dogmeat silently stared at the floor. Blueboy nodded once, with a grim expression.

"Ninety nine million."

Scrappy let out a noise that might have been a wheeze, might have been a yelp, might have been a cough. Adam hummed and ran the numbers in his head.

Ninety nine million in the monopoly money they use here would be something like… three million three hundred thousand eddies? Back home he'd pay something like one million two hundred thousand per milspec frame ordered from in-house manufacturers. Three times that price for maybe one sixth of a proper frame meant…

He snorted. "Eighteen times upcharge."

"What?" Blueboy blinked at him.

"You paid around eighteen times more than you should've, an arm with that level of power? No more than…" He ran the numbers in his head again. "Maybe about five million five hundred thousand valis. That's how much it would cost back home." Definitely not f*cking worth it, not until he had a bunch of extra cash laying around doing nothing at least.

"I see…" Blueboy commented noncommittally, hair slightly in his eyes.

Anyways, that dealt with… "Drops are yours. You have any ant-cream?"

"Hmm?"

"The skin-hardening cream made from ant bits. You have any in stock?" He growled out. He needed to get out of here before they tried to charge him for bleeding on their floors.

"Ah, we actually do, do you want me to ring you up?" Blueboy smiled at him, Adam waved him off and tapped the stock of assorted bits carefully organized on the countertop.

"Just give me all that these drops are worth." Better than keeping an assorted bag of loot under the beds. At least the cream was useful and consumable, the best of both worlds when it came to not being robbed. "If you don't have enough, then discount the next potions we come to buy to cover the rest, got it?"

"Can do! Let me go get those jars for you! Naaza-chan, can you count up the drops for me?"

"A-ah… yes! I'll get right on that!" Dogmeat snapped out of her daze, before hurriedly getting to work muttering numbers and removing drops from on top of the table. Eventually she gathered them all up and practically ran to the back, out of sight.

…Tetris! That's what it was called!

"...Did you have to get her to flick you?" Scrappy asked, rubbing at his face. "I think I got splashed with some of your blood."

Adam rumbled in amusem*nt, putting his gauntlet back on. "Needed to test the product."

"You said it was overpriced."

"I didn't know that at the time."

"I think Hestia-sama will be upset with you if you chop off your arms, senpai."

Adam rolled his eyes. "I already called them overpriced, didn't I? I got better and cheaper things to buy first."

"I…" Scrappy furrowed his brows while staring at him. "I wasn't talking about that part."

Adam raised a brow, waiting for an explanation from the kid. Said explanation never came, as Blueboy came back out with several jars of skin cream.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

"A new weapon already?" Outsword asked as they made their way down the spiral staircase and into the murderpit once more. He had apparently wisened up a tad, this time dressed in somewhat tighter-fitting robes and moving with slightly heavier steps. Next to him Scrappy walked down, fiddling and getting used to his new sling, a new bag of sling-stones secured to his belt. Behind those two, in the very back, the SS was in marching formation.

At the front of the line was himself, as was natural, and he was carrying his new purchases down. Most prominently, the great steel-reinforced crossbow with a hard oak frame, a lever-action reload, and a gravity-fed box-frame magazine of twenty new bolts. One of the side-bags on the duffle bag now full of forty additional bolts, and his arm-crossbow traded in and replaced with a sorta sling-shot.

Only instead of using rubber, this was still a crossbow, it simply had been modified to have a cradle instead of a more conventional flat string. The idea had come to him while shopping at 'Barry's Ballistas and Bolts' or whatever it had been called, and looking at what the kid was buying. If he was already going to upgrade his crossbow, and later on buy clay-pot bombs, it would make sense to replace his old crossbow with one that could acceptably fire said bombs.

Functions just like the old one, but instead of firing bolts, it fired spheres of various sizes. If he completely ran out of ammo, he could just shoot cores at things. If he ran out of cores, he could smash a wall and fire rocks.

Apparently these were pretty popular with Halfmeats, he still wasn't sure why.

"I had the money for it, so I got an upgrade." Adam rumbled out in explanation, helmet currently tucked under one of his arms. He needed to buy a belt-hook for the thing.

"How long did you have the old crossbow for? And doesn't the ammo costs add up? It might be smarter to invest in a melee weapon first." Outsword asked seemingly reasonable questions, ignorant to the fact that Adam Smasher knew what the f*ck he was doing and questioning his actions was stupid.

"Three things swordmeat." He began glaring at a scrawny f*ck that walked by them with twitchy hands. "I had the old crossbow for less than a week. That doesn't matter, because getting a better crossbow helps me murder more and I don't need two crossbows."

"What about the one on your… Oh that's a different one. You bought two new crossbows?"

"This is a sling-thrower." Adam explained, holding it up to show off. "It doesn't fire bolts. It fires whatever crap of about the right size I need it to fire. That gives it versatility. More options means more tools means better murdering."

"Second thing." Adam continued, lowering the arm once more. "The average bolt for a crossbow, one-hundred and twenty valis. These bolts last for quite a few shots before breaking. The cost of an antidote? Five hundred valis."

"Ah! Yeah that's a good point." Outsword nodded to himself. "I suppose it would save a lot if you only use them on the poison moths. But what about everything else? Using bolts on the killer ants can't be a good idea. They'd just bounce off the shells."

"Why would I use bolts on the ants?" Adam growled out. "They don't fly and aren't poisonous. Just wait for them to approach and kick."

"Oh, yeah I suppose you wouldn't need a melee weapon as much, with your unarmed fighting style. Still, a crossbow of that size is going to be far less effective against the middle floor monsters, and practically useless against the deeper floors."

"I don't need it to be useful then. I need it to be useful now. I can just buy a better weapon later."

There was silence for a few seconds. A soft 'ow' as Scrappy smacked himself in the face with the twirling of his sling. Scrappy then coughed, ignoring the chuckles from the halfmeats in the back.

"I don't think I've ever met an adventurer like you, Adam. Normally people save up to buy one good weapon that lasts a long while, and when they get replacements, they order a copy of their old weapon again." Outsword eventually stated.

Adam scoffed, of course he had never met an adventurer like him. He was Adam f*cking Smasher. "How much do you have in your guild account? How big was that number when you entered today?"

"Uh… It's usually a pretty bad idea to talk about that sort-"

"More than a few thousand, right?" Adam cut off. "More than ten thousand, more than a hundred thousand. More than change, right?"

"One of those is correct, yeah." Outsword replied noncommittally.

"I entered today with one-thousand five-hundred valis left in my account." Adam declared. "One-thousand to buy an emergency healing potion, five hundred to buy food, and both to get me back into the Dungeon for another delve the next day. Having a big number on some paper? Completely pointless. A big number in some account isn't going to help me win. A new weapon will. More ammo will. More potions will."

"If it makes me better at murder, it's worth buying. More murder means my income goes up. Income goes up and I can buy more to help me murder. You can't make money by hoarding money. You make money by spending money."

"What if you can't find anything within your price range that would be better?" Scrappy asked curiously.

"Then you start investing it in other things." Adam rumbled. "If you can't upgrade yourself? Then expand your operation. Get another murderer to join your operation, get them armed and armored, and get them earning vails for you. Get a plot of land, get a warehouse built, then employ a few brewers or smiths to make your supplies in-house."

"Oh, yeah it would be great to have a bigger familia!" Scrappy chirped, gently swinging his sling around again. "It'd be really helpful to them if someone got good gear for them from the beginning, I know it would've helped us a lot!"

"Hmm." Adam rumbled. "Remind me to write a primer for new recruits, make sure they know how to swing a metal stick." He growled out, knowing that they were probably going to get a host of incompetents when they started properly expanding their operation. They'd probably also need training sessions, ready equipment, tactical primers…

They needed a lot to make a proper military operation. More room than the little church could support on its own. He made a note to check on the prices of the nearby buildings, see if that mostly-abandoned district was up for sale. No megacorp worth a damn was without a privately owned city district, that was like going without a militarized security force.

"You might want to invest in a combat-supporter." Halflead spoke out from the back of the group, catching his attention. "Someone to load a spare ammo box and hand it off to you while fighting, things of that nature. There's a few in our familia that specialize in it, if you want me to ask around."

"That would require a renegotiation of shares." Adam rumbled out the reminder.

"Each delve down with you is worth weeks with other adventurers, Mister Smasher. I think we'll be just fine with a small pay cut if it means your operation gets a little more efficient." Halflead proved that he had a good head on his shoulders with his polite reasoning.

Adam nodded. "Ask around then. That sounds useful."

"You know my daughter is a combat supporter." Halfred spoke up. "It'll be nice to work with my girl again."

"Little Rosie? How old is she nowadays?" Halfchain asked, the shifting of metal over metal indicating a tilted head. "Last I saw her she was riding stray dogs around."

"She turns sixteen soon, she's a woman grown by this point. I keep telling her she needs to find a husband already, but she doesn't want to listen to mama no more."

Adam tuned out that part of the conversation, no longer relevant to him and he no longer cared. Outsword spoke up, apparently having similar thoughts. "I should probably invest in a ranged weapon too, for the moths if nothing else… I've never made one before, and it'd be a good experience regardless."

"You ever used one before?" Scrappy asked. "A ranged weapon that is. I've only ever used a sling, myself." Scrappy almost sounded sheepish at admitting that, Adam wasn't sure why.

"Yeah, back home most boys got trained in a few. Throwing spears and bows mostly. I'm not sure I should use either though, with my sword being a two-hander. It'll take a bit too long to pull either out to fire, and I'd have to set my sword aside during it."

"Why do you use a greatsword anyways?" Scrappy asked in curiosity.

"Level Eleven. Silverbacks, Hard Armoreds, and Infant Dragons. A normal weapon just doesn't cut it against those, you need a good amount of weight to cut through them, they're just too tough." Outsword spoke with resigned familiarity, as if this had been a problem for him for a while now.

"Aren't you a smith?" Adam growled out with a slightly confused tone.

Outsword blinked. "...Yes? Why?"

"You don't use a sword against heavy armor." Adam grunted. "You use a hammer."

Outsword didn't react for a few moments, before an expression of great revelation came over him.

---

"How do you do that?" Outsword asked, cleaving through two ants with a wide swipe of his oversized kitchen knife. He stomped back once, avoiding the gouging horn of a rabbit long enough to upper cut it with a normal punch. Said rabbit spun once in the air, practically hovering in place, before twirling off to the side from the force of the blow. Slightly superhuman, low borg tier.

"Do what?" He rumbled, kicking to cave in the skull of an ant while aiming his new crossbow. He was still getting used to the slight delay in firing and bolt travel time, but it wasn't anything worse than calculating missile trajectories while under accelerated perception of time. Tricky but not hard. His finger pulled the trigger, the bolt soared through the air.

Eighteen meters away, a moth fell out of the sky, midsection and part of one wing impaled by a powerful bolt. Overall damage was equivalent to a lower power rifle, most of its killing potential limited by the manual action required to ready another shot.

He kicked again as he cranked the lever back, loading another shot with a click as hisshakingboot ruined the torso of a war shadow. Another shadow was coming for him, too little time to avoid. He took his hand off the crossbow, angled himself to let the claws scrape off armor, and punched.

Hisshakingfist turned the white mask into a shattered plate, and the head behind it into a shower of tar. The armor slightly limited his mobility, but not much more than most borg frames did. The meatframe was flexible in many mostly-useless ways. The real handicap was the inability to fully rotate his joints like most borg frames would allow.

"That blurring when you attack." Outsword clarified, bringing his big knife around in another wide sweep that these monsters barely even tried to avoid, cutting through another batch.

"Oh! That's Panzerfaust!" Scrappy chirped, cutting a frog-tongue in half with his sword, stepping back to briefly disengage, and swinging that new sling around twice. The third swing ended in an almost-tossing motion. Eight meters away, a mask caved inwards and the shadow collapsed, landing on a rabbit and pinning it underneath. "He tried teaching me, but I wasn't able to do it."

His upgrading to a better crossbow, and Scrappy's addition of a rock-tosser, meant that quite a few monsters died well before reaching them. More monsters died before reaching them, the frontline was more relaxed as a result, giving them time to chat somewhat calmly as the hall before them filled with an abundance of corpses.

"Panzerfaust…? That sounds, Elven. Is that the name of that fighting style?" Outsword asked, having taken a position with him at the front, and Scrappy between and slightly behind the two of them, ready to go protect the supporters again if needed. A reversed triangle formation facing towards the enemy.

"It's German, meatbag." Adam corrected, performing another hard kick that crashed into a pouncing rabbit and sent it careening off to crash against the wall. There was a fairly satisfying crunch that accompanied each blow against those. "Means 'armor-fist'." He fired again, sending another moth flying back and down some fifteen meters away. Twenty shots, he needed to refill the ammo box.

It wouldn't surprise him if they just used another language but mangled for their stupid fairy tale races. That sounded about on par for everything else here so far.

Hisshakingfist turned another leaping rabbit into a corpse.

"Oh! It does kinda sound like an Elf-word!" Scrappy commented, stabbing down to pin an ant to the floor, then ripping the sword out and back, using the pulling to flow into a kick that knocked the corpse back and tripped a shadow. "Did you learn it from an Elf, Senpai?

Adam grunted out a negative as he hurried to secure his crossbow to his waist, freeing up his arms. He was pretty sure 'Elf' was slang for something sex related back where he was from. "I learned it from an old ninja named Kagekaze. He gave me a few pointers in between missions, back in my merc days."

Twoshakingfists turned two monsters into gore. He stopped moving slowly backwards, and instead started moving slowly forwards. The swarm of monsters had thinned out enough, it was time to start reclaiming lost ground and give the SS time to carve the corpses apart. More economical with their time this way.

They had hit the monster pantry again today, same tactics, moving down the most optimal route and clearing the path in their way before luring the horde and performing a fighting retreat to bleed them out. There was little point in staying on these floors after clearing the pantry, they weren't going to find a larger group except as a fluke.

He had checked the prices again. Floor ten had orcs, bats, and imps. Bats stayed out of range for most melee, and were known as a huge hassle to leave alone. They were, however, worth nearly four-thousand valis each. Only issue is the monsters they hung out with could potentially cause some real issues.

He needed to make sure the kid was up to snuff before heading down, both in practice and gear, which meant sticking with their gradual pace. They'd clear out the pantry, then go down to map out floor seven with their normal pace. Slow and steady with how they cleared these things out, no need to take risks this early on.

Another stomp forwards, another set ofshakingblows, two more corpses. "Scrappy, moth duty." He growled out, pointing out the target in the distance and setting a command simultaneously. He was out of easy reload territory, so he delegated the murder.

Said moth lived for about another five seconds before something smashed into it, sending the thing tumbling down. A few seconds later, another moth died, a rock whistling over their heads as they advanced. Scrappy was managing about one shot every six seconds or so when not being interrupted, from what he had seen. He'd need to set up something for the kid to practice on back at homebase.

"That's definitely a Far Eastern name, if I've ever heard one." Outsword commented, swinging and slaying another pair of monsters. "Did you ever visit? I heard they're pretty famous for their flowers."

"Visit! He's a countryman!" A voice called out from a side passage. Adam growled, recognizing the voice and taking out his immediate spike of frustration by grabbing a frog-tongue and pulling himself forwards to crash against its skull. This brought him forwards slightly, letting him turn his gaze over to see three familiar meatbags.

A fox, a rabbit, and what he now recognized as an adolescent halfmeat. His black armored figure was painted in a fine coat of frog gore, which similarly splashed the three brats who stood at the entrance of a tunnel that led to an alternative path to the stairs up.

The fox was pointing co*ckily, expression slowly shifting into one of dread as she realized that her front was painted a fresh red. The other two were similarly distressed as they realized they had stumbled across a killing field.

How the hell didn't you realize that earlier, meatbags? You practically walked into this hallway already and the floors were covered in gore and corpses. You overheard Outsword talking to him, and knew he was there…

…They knew that he was there. His eyes narrowed behind his visor.

"Stay out of my way."He snarled out through his helmet, immediately leaping forwards again to smash fists against a pair of ants. Now he had to worry about another potential flank, which introduced a level of variability that he didn't like. No question on decision making though, if they tried poaching his profits, he'd kill them and move on. Right now he had a slaughter to get back to enjoying.

Once again, the answer was delegation. "Crozzo! Watch these meatbags!" He ordered, being met by an affirmative grunt and immediate repositioning. In front of him, another moth died as Scrappy's stone smashed into it. That one wasn't as accurate as it could've been, hitting the base of a wing segment and not the central body.

"Don't call me Crozzo! Call me Welf!" Outsword attempted to demand as he moved in front of the three interlopers to make sure they didn't try ambushing the SS.

Pft, not even Scrappy has earned a name yet. He'll call you whatever the f*ck he feels like. Hot gore painted his front again as his fists crashed into another set of monsters. "Support Squad! Status!"

"All clear! Pace maintained!" Halflead called back. The tone indicated steady breathing and relative proximity. They were keeping up with his advancing pace, carving corpses as they went. Operation was still running smoothly.

Good.

He had somepointedquestions for the Japmeats after he was done with this group.

Shinonome Momiji, Level 1 Adventurer, Soma Familia

"Are you sure about this, Momiji-chan?"

"Absolutely! If in foreign lands, help your countrymen. That's what granny taught us!"Momiji replied with a firm conviction. Honestly, if she wasn't here then Kaede-chan would probably be completely lost already, she was clueless that way. Adjusting her miko dress once more, and checking the bloodstains that were now in the nice pretty fabric, she made sure that she was presentable looking for the upcoming warning.

No one would listen to a shrine-maiden-in-training unless she looked the part! How else would her dire warnings be heeded?

Kaede pressed her lips together and sent a worried look forwards down the red-stained hallway, past the charming red-haired ronin with a zanbato, past the trio of pallums in adorably proportioned armor, past the white-haired cutie with ruby eyes. All the way at the very end of the long red-stained hallway and the ash that held footsteps like snow.

At the very end, and the giant, blurring, black-clad figure that making monsters explode with his punches. Efficient and flowing movements that ended with explosive power against hordes of enemies. The first time she had seen it, she knew that it was martial arts! Grandpa moved the same way.

Well not the same way, but he could make monsters explode by punching them too, so it was basically the same thing! He was a fellow countryman, and a martial artist, so they had to stick together all the way out here.

"I don't think he really needs help…"Kaede replied, looking at their fellow Easterner make short work of even floor seven monsters with his fists and feet. This was quite a bit further down then they had ever been, but the halls were mostly cleared along their way, and teaming up on any monster that did show up meant they were able to get by.

Still, it was really scary! The shadows were really quick, and the frogs grabbed her butt at one point! She still had slime on her legs! Totally gross!

She took vicarious pleasure in seeing them get smashed by a martial artist, serves them right for laying hands on a shrine maiden (in training)!

"Um… Please don't forget me." The small voice of their local friend and little-senpai spoke out in Koine from behind them. Momiji turned an apologetic smile towards her and mentally switched languages. Koine was tricky.

"Ah… Sorry Coco-han. I keep forgetting you can't speak Nihon." Momiji lied. She didn't keep forgetting, it's just that Coco-han was entirely too cute when she pouted! Everything about her was cute, but her pouting face was especially the cutest. Every time she had to remind them that she couldn't speak Nihon, she pouted, so Momiji and Kaede made a pact to do it as often as they could get away with.

Perfectly on cue, Coco puffed her cheeks and pouted. It was all Momiji could do to not squeal and pick her little-senpai up.

"Looks like they're about done up there." The voice of their temporary bodyguard spoke up, hair a beautiful foreign shade of red and eyes a bright blue, wearing a delightfully familiar blue kimono but speaking with an exotic accent. "What brings you three here, anyways?"

Everyone out here was so exciting to look at!

"Ah… Crozzo-han?" Momoji tried, receiving a 'tch' and a wave of the hand.

"Call me Welf." Ah! That was so forward of him! They had just met and he wanted her to use his first name. Her face tinted pink and her heart made the same kind of pitter-patter than rain on clay bowls did.

"W-welf-han?" How thrilling! "We came down to warn a fellow countryman, Bushi-han. He's been targeted by a rogue!"

"A tanuki!" Kaede added with a growl. Neither of them liked the Tanuki, he had a habit of taking things that didn't belong to him. "He's a big bully, we overheard him talking about how he was going to find and rob someone down in the Dungeon. A really tall adventurer with poofy blond hair and a grumpy face."

"And there was only one adventurer we knew with that description, our fellow countryman!" Momiji finished with a determined raising of her fists, clutching her Onusa. "So we came down to warn him!"

"Oh? Tanuki?" Ronin-han questioned, clearly not a fellow countryman, but still pretty cute!

"Racoon." Kaede clarified.

"...Ah, short, fat, brown hair, a bit of a beard?"

"Yes! You know of him?" Momiji asked, leaning forwards as they walked, ears flickering and tail swishing.

"Yeah, he tried to lord over Adam up there a day or two back. Issue is, Adam's quite a bit taller and quite a bit meaner, and ended up humiliating the guy so badly he had to run away." Ronin explained, zanbato hefted over one shoulder.

"Hah! As expected of our countryman!" Momiji smugly declared, ears standing straight. Kaede nodded in equal satisfaction, hearing of the Tanuki getting bullied and having to run away was definitely a good thing. She could imagine his fat legs waddling like a duck as fast as they could to carry him away.

"He has a magic sword." Coco interrupted quietly, in the same timid tone that she always used. The reminder dampened the mood.

"Tch. I noticed." Ronin-han responded with a hot growl and a steadfast glare forwards. "Looks like they're finishing up now, come on." He jerked his head forwards, ushering the three of them towards the rest of the group.

They approached, the three Supporter-Pallums in their cute armor kneeling next to monster bodies and expertly carving them up, like tuna-masters from back home. Little people in metal armor that covered them up performing chores was really cute!

The white-haired boy with the plate and chain armor used his strange string-weapon again, sending a rock flying through the air and hitting a Purple Moth out of the sky. He looked around seriously again, before turning and smiling at the three of them. She smiled back, bowing briefly before turning her gaze to the final figure.

Their countryman, Bushi-han, rose from a kneel next to a corpse. He had a lot more gear now, almost unrecognizable in it all. Pure black metal armor that covered everything, a huge bag probably big enough for her to use as a sleeping-bag on his back, a big crossbow hanging by a hook from his belt and another type of crossbow mounted on one of his arms. The most familiar feature being that he was covered in monster-blood.

It was really cool! Like a scroll-scene depicting a famous warrior after a long battle. Her countryman was the spitting image of Kintoki the first time they met! Red skin and a grumpy face. The only thing he was missing was some great golden horns for his helmet, and a coat of black scales.

"You followed me-Niku."Bushi-han growled out, voice rumbling like a giant catfish through his dark helmet. He rose to his full height, towering over them like a mythical Oni and undaunted after a long fight against a whole bunch of monsters. He also had a really cute verbal-tic!"How and why?"

Wasn't it normally 'why' first? She blinked, realizing the opportunity to make herself look good, and drew back into a smug stance. Hands on hips, chest out, ears up."I may look like a cute, everyday shrine-maiden-"

"In training."

"But I'm also a Kitsune, you know? I'm quite the formidable magician! I used a spell to find you!"She boasted, raising her Onusa and twirling it once.

Bushi-han stared at them from behind his helmet for a moment, before growling out again."Show me."

Momiji blinked, nodding in acceptance. It didn't take up too much mind to cast. Raising her Onusa and holding it in both hands, she closed her eyes and concentrated to keep her internal and external energies balanced. It wasn't a Falna-spell, so it was really tricky to cast.

After a moment, her tail stopped moving, and she took hold of the proper form in her mind's eye. Then, she began to chant.

"Turtle-shell, deer-shoulder, bean-gruel, living-bolt."
"Eight-banner spirit, lord of war and doves."
"Protector and fish-giver, guide my arrow to my vision."
"Lead me onwards, lead me to victory."
"Hassetsu Ukehi."

The chant completed, her control over the magical energies undisturbed, the spell activated. Her Onusa began to glow with a soft blue light, floated slightly out of her grip in a transparent azure orb, and pointed in Bushi-han's direction. Opening her eyes, she looked up and grinned, moving her orb left and right and up and down, her Onusa moved to maintain its pointing at her target.

"See! I can find anything if I've seen it before. We used it to find you so we could warn you!"She explained, letting a more serious look overtake her face, tail flickering, and lowering her new glowing orb."A big fat Tanuki is planning on robbing you!"

Kaede-chan nodded with her, ears flopping and expression grim. Coco-han was still wary of Bushi-han, so she was being quiet and staying halfway behind them.

Bushi-han's helmet stared at them for a few moments longer, before tilting up and growling out in Koine. "Support Squad, are you done yet?"

"Seven more corpses left!" One of the super-cute Pallums in armor called back, carving through a rabbit with a horn as he spoke.

"We'll move out once you're done, early lunch today." Bushi-han commanded, being met with nods and smiles. He then turned to them and spoke again. "You'll finish explaining then, meat." Momiji grinned, he was heeding her warning, despite her dress being covered in frog blood from earlier!

—

They eventually arrived at a somewhat large room with two entrances, both of which were on the same side. The walls were darkened, which meant that it was safe for a little while, she thinks. Moving in the center of the wider group, the trio was well-sheltered from the occasional group of monsters that came across them.

Said groups of monsters lasted less than thirty seconds, being quickly torn apart by the rapid, bounding movements of Bushi-han.

Once they reached the room, the Supporters pulled off big bear-traps from the sides of their bags, setting them up at the entrances and moving to a more defensible corner of the room to unload meals and water for the group. While they were doing this, the three warriors were briefly scouting the hallways leading from the room, checking for monsters, before returning and likewise beginning to unload bags and gear for a brief rest.

"So how do you know Senpai?" The white-haired boy asked, removing his helmet and loosening his chain coat. His sword and dagger were set carefully down to let him grab them quickly, as was the string-weapon.

"We met him in the Dungeon the other day-" Momiji began.

"Last week." Coco-han corrected quietly, looking around at the walls nervously, rubbing one of her arms.

"-and realized that he was an Easterner too! So we explored the upper floors together and came out with a whole lot of loot!" She boasted.

"I told you to f*ck off and you offered to carry my loot." Bushi-han growled out, removing his helmet and moving onto the shoulder-plates. His voice was much better when speaking in Nihon, but it wasn't bad like this either. "None of you killed anything. I was doing all the work."

"Did you give them a chance to kill anything? If it was just Goblins and Kobolds, I'm not surprised they couldn't get anything with you there." Ronin-han said with an amused smile, only needing to loosen his kimono slightly and put his zanbato down to be finished 'settling down', pulling out a lunch-box that smelled delightful.

It was at this point that she realized they hadn't brought any food down. Kaede-chan's stomach growled, seemingly in agreement, and both of them looked despondently at the floor.

"Here, did you forget to bring food down?" The cute and handsome and generous white-haired boy smiled at them, offering three delicious-looking fried potatoes to them. "I can share, we have plenty of leftovers."

"Don't feed the strays, they'll never leave." Bushi-han growled again, acting like he didn't want them around.

"We spent all our money on Soma, and forgot to buy food again…" Kaede mumbled out, already biting into the offered potato. The supporters exchanged glances with each other.

"And Soma makes you hungry too, so it's doubly bad…" Momiji agreed with downtrodden muttering, already chowing through her own potato. Ears flat and tail limp. It wasn't fair that Soma tasted so good! It was ginkgo seeds and sunshine in a bottle!

Coco didn't bother talking, instead greedily devouring the offered food without pause. It was really cute the way she ate so fast! It was like watching a mouse devour a great nut, chewing with rapid intensity and holding it with both hands.

Inhaling deeply to smell the potato, she froze, detecting another scent. Lowering the potato, she looked across the room.

Bushi-han had removed his breastplate, revealing a padded underlayer practically drowning in sweat, which he was in the midst of peeling from his equally drenched torso. Wet and sticky layers of cloth pulled from hard, glistening muscles, the heavy musk of exertion reaching her nose and filling her head completely.

She followed a bead of sweat as it made its way down from the collarbone, over the pectoral, across the abdominals and hip-bone, and disappearing into the pantsline. She swallowed, suddenly feeling quite nervous to be here.

"...miji-san, Kaede-san, Momiji-san, Kaede-san!" There was an arm shaking her, she blinked, turning to see Coco currently gripping onto her and her childhood friend's shoulder with firm hands.

"Wha-?"
"What is it?"

She and Kaede replied simultaneously. Coco-han swallowed nervously.

"Mr. Smasher asked you a question."

She blinked, did he? Turning her gaze over again and looking up, she met the annoyed blue eyes of Bushi-han. He was glaring at them, holding up a strange bread-and-meat meal in one hand and rapidly munching through it while waiting for them to respond.

"Have your sexual awakening later, brat. I asked you a f*cking question." He growled out through a mouthful of meat and bread and vegetables.

She sputtered, bringing her hands up to bury her face in her palms and flattening her ears across her scalp. Her tail came around to partially cover the front of her body. She wished she had a spell that made her invisible, that would be way more convenient to have.

"Be embarrassed later, brat. You're wasting my goddamn time here. Tanuki, robbery, explain."

"Senpai, blasphemy!"

Eventually, she managed to recompose herself and sat in a more dignified manner, doing her best to avoid looking at the stranger she had just leered at like a red-light woman and not a proper shrine maiden (in training).

"Tanuki-han is the name we call a bully, he steals stuff if he can get away with it, and likes pushing around everyone smaller than him! We overheard him talking about how he was going to steal from an adventurer with poofy blond hair, blue eyes, and a grumpy face!"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Bushi-han's face get even grumpier.

"We only knew one adventurer by that description, so we came down to warn a fellow countryman of the danger!"

"One meatbag isn't a danger." Bushi-han growled out confidently.

"He has a magic sword." Coco-chan spoke out again, despondent. "If you don't give him what he wants, he might use it on you."

"And? So does Scrappy over there." Bushi-han grumbled. They had a magic sword too?!

"Different kind, Adam." Ronin-han corrected, shaking his head with a frown. "Bell has a sword made by a high smith. A Magic Sword is something else."

Leaning back on his hands, he practically spat out the next lines. "A Magic Sword is what you get when you fill a blade with an absurd amount of elemental energy. You swing it, and it'll unleash all this energy at once in a super-destructive attack."

"But it's fragile garbage." He snapped his fingers. "You might get one swing, you might get two or three swings. Rarely you might get five or six swings. But a Magic Sword will always shatter soon enough, breaking under its own power. It's something you can't rely upon at all."

Bushi-han took that in, taking another bite of his handheld meal, chewing, and swallowing.

"The naming scheme is f*cking stupid." He rumbled out, annoyed by something.

A pause. Ronin-han blinked at that. The boy named Bell took a bite of his own potato, apparently he had brought a whole bag full.

"What?"

"Generic and easy to confuse with all the other swords with magic powers. Magic Sword is a dogsh*t name. Whoever came up with it should be f*cking embarrassed." He took another vicious bite of his meal.

Unexpectedly, Ronin-han slowly started chuckling, before escalating into a full-blown laughter. It was such an amused and delighted sound that she couldn't help but chuckle along.

"Y-you're right! T-they don't even have to be swords, thinking about it! It's any blade. M-magic Sword is a s-stupid name!" Ronin-han struggled out between laughs. He clearly found something deeply funny about that, but she wasn't quite sure what.

"Settle down, swordmeat. I ain't done interrogating them yet." Bushi-han growled out, before turning an intense gaze on her that made her tail poof up. "Tanuki. Short, fat, brown hair, puffy sideburns, slight beard?"

She nodded enthusiastically, matched by Kaede-chan.

"He normally operate alone, or with some other meatbags?"

"He has a partner, we call him Kamaitachi! He's tall and quick, and uses a one-handed straight-sword! He has black hair and a ponytail." Kaede-chan was quick to elaborate.

"There's a supporter, Lili-san, that they drag around… They don't treat her very well…" Coco-chan timidly got out. "P-please don't hurt her, if you end up fighting. She can't stop them from doing whatever they want, she's a Pallum like me."

"...They give a timeframe for when their little ambush is going to happen?"

"They were going to try waiting for you to come back up today, but I don't know where exactly…" Momiji answered.

Bushi-han took another bite of his meal, almost finishing it off, and thinking for a moment.

"Was wondering when the corporate sabotage was going to start." He gave a confusing line, then moved on. "Alright, info on a potential ambush is valuable. I'll pay you each ten-thousand after today's run is done."

Momiji dropped her half-eaten potato. Kaede-chan choked on air. Coco-chan fell backwards.

"We're going to finish up our regular shifts, then head up. If they decide to f*ck off before we get back, we head to their headquarters and give polite warnings to their boss. If we run across them, we'll beat them to a pulp, head to their headquarters, and leave them strung up as a warning."

"...Senpai, that's really violent."

"They're trying to rob us, brat. They're lucky that I'm not killing them outright, if only because they're more useful alive to help build rep."

"That's the only reason?"

"You have to start somewhere, kid."

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

It had been awhile since he had a hit squad gunning for him. They were fairly common back in his warframe for a few decades there, but they slowed down more and more as Arasaka's competitors slowly realized that nothing they could send would be able to take him down.

It took Morgan Blackhand ready with a nuke to even slow him down, and that was decades ago. A city center reduced to radioactive rubble and millions dead as collateral from the clash of two legends. Adam had only been getting better chrome and more experience as he went along. He knew in his gut that Blackhand was doing the same, wherever that asshole was these days.

And in the off chance some punk with a vehicle-grade gun got a lucky shot off on him? They always aimed for the head. His biopod was in the torso. His frame had lost its sensor-suite a few times over the years, they never anticipated that the headless borg would reach over and strangle them to death after they dropped their guards. Kagekaze called them possum-tactics, he called them effective.

He made a note to do that if he ever met that lucky punk again, professional pride and all that.

So a return to form with opposing corporate assassins with heavy weaponry waiting in ambush? It was downright nostalgic.

Granted, these meatbags were aiming for his wallet, not his life. That dampened the excitement a tad. That, and he knew for a fact they hadn't come ready to take down Adam Smasher, so whatever preparations they made weren't going to be enough to make it a fair fight.

A shame, but that would change in time, as his rep increased in these parts. Give it a few years and rival corporations will start having strategy meetings specifically about how to take him down again. He couldn't wait for the opportunities to break through their walls while they were happening again.

Still, they might not be enough, but that was no reason to get sloppy. "Strengths and weaknesses?" He asked the foxbrat as they walked back from the day of slaughter, bags of supporters behind them abrim with cores and his own bag abrim with monster parts. Scrappy and Swordmeat (he needed to come up with a better name, if he started using other weapons too) had similarly full bags, as did the three brats who volunteered to carry things about halfway into the second shift.

So he paid their share in cores, thus saving him the need to write checks later. Seven ant cores each was enough to pay them for the information and tip them extra, cores that they kept checking on with enthralled expressions. Scrappy and Swordmeat were having a conversation about drop items behind him, which he tuned out as unimportant for the moment.

Foxbrat blinked, looking up after a moment, then replying. "Umm… Tanuki is pretty strong, yeah, he can pick up and toss people around with one hand!" He could do that too, so not that impressive. He also already knew how strong from grappling the meat earlier, but 'enough to bruise the palm' wasn't too much.

"He's also really sneaky! You can go somewhere, close the door, and turn around to see him already standing there! He just shows up outta nowhere!" Bunnybrat chimed in with a serious look on her face. Something to watch out for, but potentially a non-issue depending on angle of approach.

"He's a coward. If he doesn't have a magic sword with him, he's probably going to run away." The Halfbrat finished up with an actual weakness, albeit one he had no intention of actually using. Letting targets get away didn't sit well with him, he preferred to wrap up loose ends like that. Then again, he could always chase him down afterwards, he had ranged weapons for a reason.

"Allies?" He rumbled, mentally mapping out their return and taking note of potential ambush spots. There were a few that he would use along the way, but he didn't know how clever these meats were or not, no guarantee that they would use any of them. Still, best to assume they would and plan appropriately.

"Umm… Weasel is there too, probably. He's not as sneaky, but he's really quick and has a sword!" Foxbrat warned. He had armor, so that sword probably wasn't going to be very useful against him unless they went for the gaps and weak points correctly. Bait an attack then counter?

"Any armor?" Not that it would make a difference against panzerfaust, but it was always good to know.

The three brats had to think about that for a moment.

"Uhm… Tanuki has a shoulder-pad, I think?" Bunnybrat replied after a few moments.

"Leather and chain then?" He growled with a raised brow.

Another long moment. "Do belts count as armor, Bushi-han?"

"No." He grumbled out the very obvious.

"Ah… No just the shoulder-pad. They just wear normal clothes except that."

Adam resisted the urge to be disappointed. It was normal for meatbags to not measure up. Besides, they might have come with better equipment than normal this time, so it was entirely possible they would survive more than one hit.

He would refrain from getting his hopes up.

"Ano… One last thing…" Foxbrat began nervously.

"Hmm?"

"We uhh… He's in the Soma familia too, so…"

They had betrayed their corporation in order to bring him information. They had done this because, as far as he could tell, they thought he was Japanese and no greater reasoning. He looked nothing like a Japanese man. They had that assumption based on him being able to speak the language and essentially nothing else.

Proved that this was an Arasaka-made world, at the very least.

"So you don't want to be caught having betrayed your familia." He rumbled out. The three of them flinched at that.

"Betray is a harsh word… No one likes Tanuki! No one!" Foxbrat insisted.

"Or Weasel!" Bunnybrat added.

"No one likes anyone in the Soma familia." Halfbrat finished with a despondent tone. "Everyone hates each other, and steals from each other, and no one trusts anyone else." Halfbrat looked up at that. "Don't worry about us getting in trouble for this, I don't think captain will even notice, let alone care."

"It's not true. I like you Coco-han!" Foxbrat nodded emphatically, matched by Bunnybrat.

"What about your god, surely Soma would care about his familia hating each other?" Scrappy chimed in with a troubled tone of voice.

"Soma only cares about making Soma. So long as he has ingredients and space to work, he doesn't pay attention to us at all." Halfbrat continued. "...I don't like Soma very much…" She quietly admitted, deliberately not specifying what Soma she was referring to. The other brats glanced away, but notably didn't argue that.

So internal disputes? He could act without much fear of reprisal, but his message would also be less effective. He rumbled in consideration.

"...Hey, why not join our Familia?" Scrappy offered. "I'm sure Hestia-sama would be happy to meet you! We can always ask if you want."

Adam groaned even as the three of them started excitedly chattering. "Goddamnit Scrappy-"

"Blasphemy!" Scrappy scolded lightly.

"-The f*ck did I say about picking up strays?"

"Oh come on Adam, did you mention expanding earlier as a good thing?" Scrappy attempted to use his words against him. "We're getting plenty of valis every day, so we can probably afford to grow our familia pretty soon."

"We have better prospects for recruiting than three brats, I'm sure." He growled. He was fairly confident none of them were older than fourteen and had less combat experience than he did when he was ten. Late bloomers by any definition.

"We can be useful!" Foxbrat interrupted with determined fists raised before her face. He very much doubted that, her only redeeming feature thus far was a targeting function of unknown specifications. "I'm a spellcaster! A-and we can share a room! We don't take up much space!"

Adam audibly groaned as the three pubescent girls started chirping about their positive traits in hopes of recruitment. Scrappy was smiling and Swordmeat was chuckling. The SS each had a mask of quiet professionalism on their faces, which meant that they were now his favorite meatbags.

—

They ended up using chokepoint three. Not the one he would've chosen, too many alternative routes, but not a bad choice by any means. "Flank route on left side, watch out for it." Adam commanded quietly as they approached, the room at the end of the hallway being interposed by a familiar raccoon and two other meatbags. One with a dumb looking afro and the other with a forgettable, roundish face. True to the earlier description, the Raccoon was wearing a shoulder pad, and that was the sum total of armor among all three.

"Oh? Fancy meeting you down here in the Dungeon, and with some of my own familia with you, why-" Raccoon started, swaggering forwards with his hand on the hilt of the overly fancy garbage on his hip. He was attempting to ease into the daylight robbery with smooth talking, setting the tempo of the conversation.

"You're trying to rob us." Adam interrupted the bullsh*t with a blunt accusation. "You're trying to rob us because you got your little feelings hurt the other day." Insults and honesty were usually pretty effective at cutting through the posturing.

There was the halfmeat behind them, deeper into the room. Little hooded girl with a bag that could probably fit him in it, it looked comical. She looked like she wished to be somewhere else at the moment.

Note to self, preserve that one if possible, he needed a corroborating witness for the 'story' here. Just in case. He could safely bribe her if needed. If all else failed, it was just another loose end to wrap up.

Raccoon stared blankly for a moment, before replying. "You're smarter than you look, being honest. I was going to be generous and only take half, but honestly you piss me off. Drop your bags and run off, will you?"

"Counteroffer, meat." Adam raised his hands, cracked his knuckles through his gauntlets, and cracked his neck with audible pops. "How bout I beat you into a f*cking pulp, and you pray I drag you out afterwards."

"Ah, ah, ah." Raccoon waggled a finger. "See I'm a pretty jumpy man, if you scare me too much I might swing Nagashima here. See she's a pretty special-"

"Magic Sword." Adam interrupted again, breaking his tempo with deliberate interjections. Raccoon paused again with a frown as Adam continued. "And you're not going to swing it."

"Oh? Why is that?" Raccoon asked, tilting his head back and glaring. You look ridiculous, try actually wearing armor for once.

Adam shrugged off his bag, pointed it at the trio obstructing them, and opened it by one belt-buckle. Inside were all the drop items that they acquired from today's haul.

All twenty-five. Today was a very profitable one, especially since he knew to head for the pantry immediately instead of secondarily and started a slightly more efficient means of farming valis.

"This is all the drop items gained from today, acquired from monsters from the sixth, seventh, and eighth floors." Adam calmly explained, before going through the motions of buckling up his bag again and shouldering it once more, strap across his torso. "All the bags we have are full of cores. In total, today's haul is worth one-million four-hundred and twenty-five thousand valis, plus whatever we can auction off the drops for."

Adam tilted his head disdainfully. "That magic sword probably doesn't cost more than one-hundred and fifty thousand. You swing and you destroy the loot on our backs, loot enough to buy nine more magic swords and leave enough left over to binge on your sin of choice for weeks."

"That knife on your belt is an empty threat." Adam finished, spreading his arms apart in an arrogant manner. "Now stop wasting my time, and let's get to the part where I shatter your limbs already."

Raccoon stared for a few moments longer, before sighing and shaking his head. "Man, you're just the worst huh? Least fun robbery I've had in a long time. I got a question for you, though."

"What's that?" Adam rolled his shoulders and started walking forwards.

"Did you really think a Magic Sword is my only preparation?" Raccoon glowered out, his fellow deadmeats walking up to stand on either side of him.

"On our flank!" Halflead called out. Something was thrown behind him.

He didn't check behind him, keeping his eyes on the Raccoon in front of him. Said Raccoon was developing a wide, smug smile as whatever behind him unfolded. "Report!"

"Wounded Ant!"
"Kill it!"
"It's too late!"

He made a note to lecture Scrappy about fast reactions later. He could hear monsters start to spawn from the walls. The sound of his own group moving into defensive positions around the supporters.

Killer Ants, when wounded but left alive, released a pheromone that summoned more ants from the walls. As many ants as the walls could support, summoned all at once. One of the main reasons they were considered newbie killers, because newbies didn't kill them fast enough.

"Nice throwing, Ged!" Raccoon called out with a grin of viscous camaraderie.

From the flank route on the left, one that connected to a tunnel slightly above and separated by a ledge, an arrogant voice called out. "Took you long enough to give the signal, the little bastard was about to call them down on me!"

"It's Weasel!" Foxbrat called out with worry. Good to know that one was accounted for.

They were expecting the ants to kill them, after which they would lead said ants into the room nearby at chokepoint and wipe them out with the magic sword. After which they would be free to come grab the bags off their corpses at leisure and move along. Not a bad tactic to use, if he was being objective here.

Of course, they weren't accounting for one thing. "Scrappy, Swordmeat."

"Yes?"
"Yeah?"

"Make sure to capture the flanker after you're done with the swarm." He rumbled out, continuing his steady approach towards the three suddenly slightly-nervous meatbags.

They had been using this tactic all day.

Ant swarms were very good for earning valis, if you could handle them. He knew that they could from extensive field testing, it wasn't that hard once you figured out the trick to it. They were going to do just fine.

In the meantime…

Adam began to run forwards, making sure to stomp in the way that made his steps as loud as possible, swinging his arms with furious tempo and rushing in dauntlessly. Three-hundred odd pounds of metal and lean meat on a direct collision course with meatbags a foot shorter and without any armor. The three meatbags flinched, two of them stepping back and wavering already.

Halfbrat was right, they were cowardly little sh*ts. Then again, fighting unenhanced meatbags was always like this. Their morale was usually sh*t, and morale was nine tenths of what kept them in the fight.

…He had a slaughter to participate in.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

There were five primary factors that dictated a frame's capabilities in knife-fighting ranges. Strength, Speed, Reach, Weight, and Armor. All five were vital to have in some capacity. Strength was needed to manage one's own weight and deliver blows. Speed was needed to maneuver and land blows. Reach was needed to inflict damage while maintaining safe distances. Weight was needed to resist opposing movements and strike harder. Armor was required to protect one's frame long enough to attain victory.

If you lack in any of those categories, your frame has a crippling weakness. Lack of strength and you can't even move, let alone attack. Lack of speed and your movement is useless. Lack of reach and you'll be killed from a safe distance. Lack of weight and you'll be thrown around constantly. Lack of armor and minor blows will cripple you.

This was assuming all combatants were professionals. Professionals, cyberforms, or adequately chipped to remove those meat-based irrationalities. Because having those irrationalities was the mark of an amateur and an idiot. A smart amateur will get them removed, plenty of chipware to handle this sort of thing. A professional didn't have these irrationalities any more.

Irrationalities such as fear of injury. Fear of damage. Fear of pain.

Fear of a large and heavily armored figure running directly, tracing a direct collision course at you with no signs of stopping. Three meatbags, sans any proper armor, wielding one-handed melee weapons. Sword, Mace, Mancatcher. He needed to disable the mancatcher first.

The fact that they were flinching told him all he needed to know. It didn't really matter how strong any of them were. If they were scared of something like this, they'd be easy to kill. It might be hard to keep any of them alive, but there wasn't any real harm in making tentative attempts. If they proved too rowdy, he'd just go for the kill instead.

Mace was preparing a swing, as was Sword. Mancatcher was moving back and preparing a thrust. He needed to test how strong they were without risking damage.

He stomped hard on the ground, boots beginning to slide across the comparatively smooth dungeon floor. His momentum was slowed only briefly. He reached a hand down to his side and grabbed the item there, before swinging his arm up and bleeding off slightly more momentum.

He threw the Hostess of Fertility bag.

Currently full of rocks smashed from the walls of the dungeon.

He threw a bag of rocks at the meatbag with a mace, who predictably swung said mace at the fast incoming object. He kicked off the ground, and prepared for the next step.

The mace collided with the bag of rocks, two-handed grip. The fact that it did not immediately destroy said bag of rocks indicated that the meatbag was operating within human capabilities at the moment. The bag was partially deflected, the bag tearing apart slightly, the mace going wide…

The meatbag's eyes widened.

Adam's boots collided with his side-torso in a devastating drop-kick. He flexed, uncoiling his body like a spring. No panzerfaust, he wasn't trying to kill them quite yet.

The meatbag screamed in pain as he was tossed back. Adam's hand reached out.

The only issue with a genuine drop-kick, was that one often had to recovery thereafter. Any energy spent preparing to recover was energy not spent on kicking harder. Of course, most people were not Adam Smasher.

He grabbed the strap of the bag of rocks, catching it moments before it left his reach and hit the ground, andpulled. Its weight used as an anchor, hetwistedhimself in the middle of the air. Kagekaze taught him how to do this trick a while back, it was a pain in the ass to do without speedware, but not impossible. It was, however, completely impossible to do in a proper warframe. Warframes were quite a bit heavier than mere meat or a bag of rocks.

That and you normally use something other than a bag of rocks for this. Kagekaze would probably laugh himself silly seeing him do it this way.

He landed in a more ready crouch as the first meatbag smashed into the doorway into the next room, several meters away. His boots impacted the ground with loud, heavy stomps. Strength measured, speed measured, weight measured. Reach and armor were variables known from visual observation.

All in all, barely more than peak human, if that. Not enough to account for the difference in experience. He had nothing really to worry about.

Raccoon was swinging a sword at him. Not the magic sword, another sword. This one had a blunted tip for some reason, making it ineffectual as a thrusting weapon. It might have special properties.

He raised the bag of rocks, intercepting the sword with the sound of ripping leather and metal crashing into stone. No obvious properties. He made a note to finally buy a shield later. Bag was ruined.

He planted one hand on the ground, and twisted into a low kick against Racoon's knee. Racoon promptly folded, falling down with a pained scream as Adam's boot crashed against a structural weakness.

Unfortunately, he was too late to avoid the third meatbag. He was too used to working with higher end specs than this.

A spike-lined metal hoop crashed against his leg, spring-loaded mechanism snapping into place and locking the limb within. He grunted as the polearm was immediately yanked back, dragging him along the floor like he was a fish being reeled in.

He braced the leg that had been caught. He raised his other leg and brought it down,shaking.

The polearm snapped under his heel, his momentum halted and redirected, he flexed his other leg against the stone floor.

In the second it took for the meatbag to grab him and drag him over, he had snapped the weapon, shot into a standing position, and had the momentum of the pull ready in one of his fists.

Steel gauntlet crashed into the Afro meatbag's arm, shaking.

A spray of gore painted the walls behind his target, who staggered back screaming, clutching at a stump. A few moments later, the lower half of an arm landed to the side and rolled briefly before coming to a stop.

Five attacks, one block, ten seconds, three injured targets. This frame was pathetic.

He pulled out his crossbow and shot the one with the magic-sword in the back, aiming for a lung. No need to risk that one in particular swinging an explosive of indeterminate power. Raccoon, attempting to stand up again, staggered before collapsing. Adam waited a moment.

Puking blood, that was indeed a lung-hit. He pulled the lever back to re-arm the crossbow, and shot again. Afro collapsed forwards, bolt landing in his hip and causing him to stagger forwards. Calmly walking over, Adam made about limiting the chances that the target would flee.

He stomped twice, legshaking.

Afro screamed harder as his legs were ruined from the knees down. Target mobility disabled. He grinned with the screams, meatbags were just so fragile.

Now… one left. He raised his helmeted head and looked to the doorway leading into the next room. Looks like Plainface had some broken ribs, and was trying to stagger away.

He started walking that direction, pulling the lever back again.

"Suppor… Lili… A… A potion…" Plainface gasped out, staggering towards the fearful looking halfmeat in the distance. He made sure to lock eyes with her, through his helmet, a psychological effect that helped to prevent targets from running away.

Adam had gotten very good at intimidation tactics over his long career, it was one of his favorite topics to study. "None leave the slaughterhouse." He calmly explained, hip-firing his immense crossbow.

Plainface yelled as a bolt hit his spine, sending him falling forwards onto the ground. He strained, attempting to crawl towards the halfmeat still with limbs shaking in fear.

"A healing potion might help with the physical trauma, but I'm curious..." Adam began, walking into the room and pulling back the lever again. Eyes locked onto the halfmeat. "...What's your plan for dealing with the mental trauma?"

"Y-you… you're a monster…" Plainface gasped out, voice warbling. Halfmeat almost took a step back, a sharp look her way cut that attempt off immediately.

"Oh?" Adam rumbled with curiosity. "Who are you to judge me? You can't even stand right now."

He stomped, leg shaking. Plainface screamed as his knee was ruined. Adam reached down and grabbed the meat by the back of the neck, lifting it up. He holstered the crossbow, and retrieved his bolt from the meat's spine with a harsh yank.

"You think you're different because you use monsters to do your murdering?"

Plainface attempted to say something. Adam wasn't really interested in hearing whatever it was. His hand shot forwards, fingersshaking.

Plainface lurched in agony as Adam's fingers closed around his spine.

"Don't make me laugh." He growled out.

Halfmeat took half a step back. His helmet snapped towards her.

"Try to run, and I'll run you down." He warned. Halfmeat immediately froze and began to shiver. "Stay right there, and I won't have any reason to touch you. Understand?"

A few moments of silence. "L-lili u-understands…"

What was with the third-person bullsh*t? It sounded ridiculous. He snorted.

Her eyes locked onto something behind him, and widened in fear. She threw herself back, despite his warning.

"Naga-!" The voice of Raccoon called out behind him. He twisted immediately, bringing the meatbag in his grip with him.

Raccoon was there, magic sword raised, swing already started and jaw caked in fresh blood. How had he gotten up? He was certain he hit a lung, he made sure of it! Adam dropped to his knees, raising the meatbag to cover himself with a snarl.

'Tanuki is really sneaky!' Of all the goddamn bullsh*t…

'-shima!" Raccoon finished yelling, as he swung the sword. The edge burned with a vibrant green glow…

A wave of caustic light washed over him, the pressure like a firehose, sending him skidding backwards and scraping his armored knees across the stonework. The sound roared like a jet engine and bubbled like a tarpit. The smell burnt the hairs in his nose and made his eyes water.

The meatbag in his hands screamed only for a few moments, then there wasn't enough left of him to scream. A fleshy shield rapidly dissolving under a wave of acidic light. The light was barely beginning to dim.

He was going to have to roll the damage across his armor.

The improvised shield dissolved into nothing. The armor on his front rapidly beginning to corrode and disappear with the scream of degrading metal. The light was fading.

The feeling hit his flesh. He twisted around, using the force of the wave to spin midair, bringing up his legs to guard them with his still-armored back, planting his hands and feet on the ground.

He braced against the stone, back armor rapidly dissolving, eyes locked with the halfmeat currently on her back and cowering in shadow.

The pain hit his back just as the light faded entirely.

He stayed right where he was, slumped over and pretending to be dead. His eyes were locked with the mostly unharmed halfmeat. His meat was screaming at him.

Damage successfully rolled, attack survived. Position still disadvantageous.

He winked at the halfmeat and gestured with his eyes, lips twitching as he heard footsteps making their way over to him. Halfmeat got the hint, blinking once with deliberate intent.

"...F-f*ckin… f*cking bastard…" Raccon gasped out with fury and exhaustion in his voice. "Oi! Supporter! Are you still alive? Looks like the dumbass tried to shield you, pretending to be a hero." Actually, he forgot she was there for a moment or two.

"L-Lili is still alive, no thanks to Canoe-sama!" Halfmeat, you call that antagonizing? You need to be less polite when insulting people.

"I'm in no mood for your f*cking sass!" Raccoon seethed out. "Get the f*ck up, we need to leave!"

"Lili sees that we are abandoning our familia members again." Halfmeat politely called back, staying where she was.

Raccoon began to stomp over. Halfmeat partially crawled back in pretend distress. Raccoon reached down to grab at the girl, furious expression on his still-bloody face.

Adam's hand smashed into his arm,shaking.

Raccoon screamed and staggered back as the arm holding the magic sword went flying, now thoroughly severed from its owner.

Raccoon was halted from falling over, other hand caught and body weight supported.

Adam Smasher, armor and clothes in mostly dissolved ruins and body covered in acid-burns, glared down at the meatbag with a cold fury. First though, he turned slightly to face the halfmeat.

"Good girl."

Halfmeat stared at him. He turned his attention back towards the meatbag, who was screaming in pain and panic, attempting to jerk himself away from Adam's grip. He was substantially weaker this time, not even bruising Adam's fingers with his jerking attempts. The pain was distracting him that much?

If the meatbag was smart enough to double-tap, Adam would be dead right now. He would've died to something this pathetic. The sensors on this frame were utterly dogsh*t and they had nearly cost him his life. He was going to get that fixed as soon as possible, he couldn't afford to be so goddamn blind all the time.

In the meantime.

Adam's fist smashed into Racoon's face, forcing him onto the ground with a minor tremor and shattering his nose. His leg raised up and crashed down,shaking.

Raccoon screamed again as his legs were reduced to pulp.

He had a living target over in the hallway. He didn't need this one.

Adam stomped again. The ground tremored.

Raccoon screamed as his thighs splattered.

Adam stomped again. The ground quaked.

Raccoon's screams turned hoarse as his other arm was severed.

Adam stomped again. The ground cracked.

Raccoon's screams turned into desperate shakes and gasps of pain as his lower torso turned into mash.

Adam stomped again. The ground shattered.

Raccoon couldn't scream anymore, chest reduced to paste.

Adam breathed in slowly, then exhaled slowly.

"When asked, what are you going to say that you saw?" He asked aloud, to the only other occupant of the room.

"T-that Adventuer-sama and his group were ambushed by Soma familia, and they were forced to defend themselves." She responded, nervously rising from her crouch. The truth, but abbreviated to make one side seem clearly better than the other.

He huffed, ignoring his meat screaming at him. "Good girl."

He made his way over to the severed arm, slowly picking up the sword that it was attached to, and glaring at the thing. He took stock of himself briefly.

All of his gear was destroyed beyond hopes of recovery. How f*cking annoying. Net gain was a single f*cking acidbomb sword, something that was only going to destroy the loot of whatever he used it on.

He glanced over at the halfmeat. "Oi, girlie."

"Y-yes!" She snapped to attention, nervously swallowing at him.

"My bags are gone. Come help me carry sh*t and you can keep half and this sword."

"...O-okay…" She agreed tentatively, making her way over to him like a church mouse and accepting the offered acidbomb sword. If she tries to swing it at him, he'll kill her. The bag from the Raccoon was similarly appropriated, ripped from a mass that was mostly liquid by volume.

Tenderly at first, then furiously ignoring the pain in his meat, he made his way over to the hallway once more, reaching the Afro meatbag with crippled legs. Kneeling down to press fingers against his neck…

Dead, useless to him. He grabbed the bag off the corpse and handed it to Girlie. Then he rose up and walked over to the mace and bag of rocks.

Mace was intact. Bag was ripped and the rocks spilling out. He took it and wrapped it around his waist like a loin cloth. Nudity covered slightly, he moved on down the hallway, going slightly up and slightly sideways till his fellow murderers came into sight.

The hallway was still rather full of ant corpses. The flanker must've been running interference on the group as they were fighting. Scrappy was leaping onto an ant, stabbing it through. Swordmeat was cleaving another group of stragglers. The trio of brats looked like they were guarding and lecturing a very unimpressed and grumpy looking flanker, who was bound in ropes. The trio of supporters were hard at work breaking down any corpses.

And most importantly, all the other loot seemed to be perfectly intact.

"Mister Smasher is back!" Halflead called out, bringing the attention of the rest of the group.

Scrappy was the first to turn and call out, with a bright smile. "Senpai! Ho- You need a healing potion!" Said smile had almost immediately aborted into a look of worry as the kid practically jumped over to him, immediately fumbling with his side-bag to pull out one of the emergency potions.

He tuned out the rest of the reactions, they didn't really matter.

He downed the offered potion, stabilizing his legs and closing his eyes. His meat roared at him for what seemed like a few minutes, before finally settling down into a quiet murmur of pain.

Opening his eyes again, he spoke. "Status report."

"Minor injuries, handled by healing potions. Flanker captured. One hundred and eight thousand valis and one drop item gained from the swarm." Halflead dutifully replied.

"What about you, Senpai?" Scrappy asked nervously.

"Wasn't able to keep any of them alive, Raccoon used the magic sword, all my gear destroyed and temporary aid in carrying the additional loot hired on." Adam responded, nodding his head over at Girlie with a deliberate look towards Halflead.

Halflead nodded. Acceptable under pro-bono clauses, their bags were already full.

"...You were caught in the blast of the magic sword." Swordmeat responded, holstering his cleaver and crossing his arms. "You doing alright after something like that?"

Adam snorted. "I'm Adam f*cking Smasher."

A brief moment of laughter from the assembled group. The Japbrats practically had stars in their eyes as they started dancing around and chirping to Girlie. What the f*ck are you lot chuckling about? Get back to work.

"...I would like to formally surrender." Flanker called out, expression carefully neutral.

Shame, he was looking forward to crippling you.

Now… was it even worth sending a proper message? He'd think about it. In the meanwhile, they needed to get back out of the dungeon, and he needed to buy new gear.

Hopefully more durable gear.

Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

A figure slipped through the doorway, the church inside full of conversation and laughter. The backyard of the church darkened by the shadows of the buildings surrounding it, a lone figure sitting on the lip of the stone well in the center of the small courtyard, a bowl of fresh water up to his lips.

In the shade, blue eyes locked onto brown. Adam watched as Pipsqueak silently made her way over to him, hesitating briefly as she neared, then clamoring up to sit on the well with him. He glared briefly, before turning straight ahead again, looking away but keeping the potential assassin within his awareness through hearing.

If she wanted water, she should've brought a bowl, he wasn't going to share this one.

She sat quietly.

Inside the church, laughter rang out, some sort of joke had just been told. He took another silent drink of water. He'd need to check if any of the gear he commissioned was ready the next day, and see about commissioning something with the ant shell. Those were supposed to be tougher than normal, so getting a shield made of that would probably be best for long-term survivability.

Hypothetically, an entire set of armor with that was on the list of things to get. Ants were easy to massacre in great numbers, so their drop items should be more than frequent enough to cover the entire body. Assuming it was indeed better than normal steel, that was…

"Y-you saved Lili…" Pipsqueak finally mustered up the will to say something, and said something pointless.

"I already told you not to get touchy-feely about it, pipsqueak. I almost forgot you were even there." Adam rumbled out in reply. "You got lucky, that's it."

"...W-what about when Lili helped you get Canoe-sama…" She questioned quietly, an undercurrent of intensity in her voice. He could feel her stare on his head in the darkness, he also didn't care.

"You were there, so I took advantage of you. Congratulations, you were useful, you want a medal or something for it?" Adam grumbled in reply, sending a sharp glance towards the tiny girl who had decided to intrude upon his quiet. "I already paid you for that, girlie. If you want more you have to be useful again. I don't do charity."

"...Lili was surprised she was being paid at all…" She muttered out bitterly. "Normally she has to steal to get her fair share." She said the second line with deliberate intent, testing his reaction to the admittance of a very mild crime.

"That makes two idiots. Them for not upholding their agreements and you for working for them." Adam growled out, glaring down at her. In the darkness, Pipsqueak flinched briefly, before rallying into a soft glare of her own.

"T-they force me-"

"You know where they sleep, don't you?" Adam growled, interrupting her complaining. She stopped and swallowed as he continued. "Even the weakest meatbag in the world can murder a sleeping dumbass. Knives exist for a reason."

Pipsqueak stared for a moment longer, before glancing down and away. "...Others will just come and do the same…"

"You have two options." Adam rumbled, looking back forwards again. "Either kill until they stop coming, or get stronger. If you're alive and they're dead, you win. If they never even try to f*ck with you, you win. Either way, stop bitching about it and do something instead."

"...Which one did Adam-sama pick…?"

"Both."

Excited conversation from inside the church drifted over the courtyard. They were chatting about birds, apparently.

"...Your familia is really kind…" Pipsqueak softly commented.

"They're naive as sh*t, is what they are. Scrappy was using a f*cking dagger and no armor when I showed up, and Tatertit* barely interviewed me before accepting my offer." Adam grumbled out, making a note to try out that nickname for his employer later. "Neither of them knows jacksh*t about running a mercenary operation. If I hadn't shown up Scrappy would probably be stuck fighting kids and dogs and Tatertit* would be in debt."

"...Adam-sama is the cynical type, I see…"

"It's called being realistic."

"Lili is glad to hear it."

Another long moment of quiet passed, uninterrupted save by the sounds from inside the church.

"...Lili hates the Soma familia."

He took a drink of water.

"Lili hates the Soma familia. She hates adventurers. She hates how they constantly steal from her, how they force her to work for them, how they laugh and mock her as they do." Pipsqueak began a proper rant, growling out something that had apparently been on her mind for a while. "She hates helping them, she hates it when they're happy, she hates it when they get 'rewarded' by Zanis-sama. She hates Zanis-sama. She hates Soma, she hates Soma, she hates Soma."

"She hates…" Pipsqueak trailed off, frustration choking her throat.

"There a reason you're telling me or not?" Adam growled out with furrowed brows.

Pipsqueak stared at him for a long moment, before curling in on herself slightly. "...Hestia Home… It was really warm…"

"We keep the fire going." He grunted.

"...Is it okay for someone like Lili to join..?"

Adam huffed, annoyed that he was apparently being asked for such useless f*cking advice like this. Scrappy's already f*cking invited her, didn't he? Is she stupid?

"Do what you want."

Pipsqueak didn't talk again, thankfully. Silently the two of them waited for Tatertit* to call them in for dinner.

—

Apparently the sum total of the interview process was 'do you want to join' followed by 'yes' of various levels of enthusiasm and confidence. Adam made a note to talk to his employer later about what proper interviews should look like as they made their way over to the apparent 'Soma House'

Soma House was apparently not so much a house as it was a fortified compound with several buildings, watchtowers, and a wall. He nodded in approval at seeing something more defensible than normal for this city, it was almost like a proper corporate HQ.

Reaching the cast iron gates, Adam stood slightly behind the four girls and his employer. Scrappy had been sent off to purchase emergency sleeping mats and blankets for when they came back from here. Adam had insisted on being present to make sure his employer wasn't kidnapped or similar.

The gates were locked. "They normally don't let us in if we don't return by curfew…" Halfbrat muttered. The other brats were similarly at a loss about what in specific they should do. Tatertit* had her hands on her hips, glaring at the gate like it had slighted her.

Adam let his gaze wander searchingly.

…There. One of the windows.

He reached out with one finger extended, pointing right at the meatbag peaking through one of the curtains, then pointing down firmly. Then he raised two fingers, did a chopping motion, and dropped his arm.

'If someone isn't here in 2 minutes, I will break the gate.'

Sure enough, two minutes later, the front door opened. A thin man with well-combed gray hair walked out the front door, hand on a hilted cane as he approached. Adam knew his type by the way he walked. The man was corporate to his core.

Making his way to the other side of the gate, the man began. "Ah… Momoji, Kaede, Coco, and Lili… Getting back so late and bringing guests? You know that's not allowed for safety reasons, don't you?" The deliberate snubbing of addressing said guests was noted.

Tatertit* spoke up first, smiling and polite as the man was pretending to be. "Hestia, of the Hestia Familia. I would like to speak to Soma about a potential transfer."

The gray-haired man blinked, before slowly nodding. "A goddess…? I can go see if he's receiving visitors, if you'd like. Would you like to wait inside?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." Hestia smiled. The gray haired man waved a hand, signaling an unseen guard to pull a chain, unlocking a mechanism and allowing the cast iron gate to swing open.

They moved inside, walking through the brief courtyard. Adam locked eyes with the graymeat as he entered, glowering with specific intent. Graymeat stared back, before his lips twitched. The moment passed, and they continued moving into the Soma House.

This was a good opportunity, from what he had heard so far.

The lobby they were left in was spacious, filled with all the standard corporate decorations. Chairs, low tables, doors leading to other rooms, a few paintings. Graymeat bowed briefly before moving through a door, leaving them in the room.

Not unguarded though. Adam glared at the arrow-slit in the wall, eyes moving through the room for every hidden point of attack or vantage. Tatertit* was frowning, looking over the lobby room. The girls were a mix of excited muttering and nervous whispering.

After a few minutes, Graymeat came back with an apologetic smile on his face. It was utterly false.

"Ah, my apologies, but Soma-sama is not receiving visitors at the moment. Would you like to come again tomorrow, perhaps around noon?"

Tatertit* stared into his eye for a moment, before frowning. "He's doing what I used to, huh?" She muttered to herself, shaking her head before replying. "Nope. I'm going to go talk to him, It's not good to stay cooped up inside all day."

Graymeat's face lost most of its pretend warmth. "I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to disturb my go`"

"Mortal."Tatertit* interrupted, hair slowly drifting up in an invisible breeze as she stared at him. Graymeat's sentence was cut off, voice choking up as he looked to Adam's employer. The girls were similarly affected, suddenly stopping and staring as Tatertit* continued to speak."A goddess walks. Do not impede her path."

Graymeat shuddered briefly, before giving a staggering nod. "H-he's in his chambers… Last door down the hall…"

Tatertit* briefly smiled, turning to look at him. "I'll go talk with him! I'll be back in a few minutes, okay Adam?"

"Don't get kidnapped." Adam grunted out, glaring at a potted plant that could easily hide a ninja behind it. Tatertit* merrily skipped away and through the doorway, leaving the room, causing all the meatbags to slump with her absence.

"...How frustrating…" Graymeat muttered, raising himself up to his full height once more and turning his gaze towards the girls. Glaring at them for a moment, he moved on to glare at Adam.

"I suppose you're responsible for their sudden… change in heart?"

Adam snorted and crossed his arms. "Like hell I am. Kid in my corp got excited about talking to some girls and invited them over. Apparently your operation here is sh*t enough for that to be a good enough offer to try an interview, and my employer is trusting enough that attempting an interview was good enough to accept. I'm just here to make sure no meatbag gets a stupid idea."

"I will not have an outsider disparage the quality of my familia." Graymeat quietly warned. "Do so again and I may take action against you."

"I'm calling it sh*t because it is sh*t, you f*ckers can't even do a proper robbery." Adam pointed a finger. "Most of you aren't wearing armor, few of you are using a proper weapon, and your group tactics were pathetically basic. The only reasonable thing I've seen out of your operation thus far is the compound, which is actually fortified."

Graymeat took that in. "Ah… Our adventurers operate in semi-independent parties, I have little involvement with their affairs. Influence them too much and their individual legends cannot grow properly."

"So you cripple your income with incompetent mercs?" Adam didn't need to say the implication of idiocy aloud for it to be understood. "I'd be surprised if any of your teams are pulling more than thirty thousand a day from the examples I've had thus far."

"Oh? And how much did your most recent delve earn? I'm curious about hearing how the rookies are doing these days." Graymeat's glasses gleamed as he raised a hand to his chin. Fishing for information.

Adam reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small collection of papers. He extended his arm, papers offered by the fingers. Hook.

Graymeat took hold of the papers, slowly looking through them and pausing. Line.

In his hands were Guild Account statements for one 'Adam Smasher', important personal info carefully redacted with ink. The most important information at the bottom of each page, left perfectly clear and intact.

The post-deposit totals after each delve. Sinker.

"I've been an adventurer for about a week." Adam growled. "I've been a mercenary for years."

"...Would you like to chat over some drinks?" Graymeat practicallypurred. How disgusting.

"I don't do consultations for free. You want to make your mercenary corps more profitable, then I need payment." Adam demanded, knowing full well that Graymeat would pay quite the premium. After all, he was the exact type of corporate f*ck that Adam had been deal with for years, and the exact type that he knew how to get money out of.

Arasaka standard operating procedure. Be the best in the business, and sell yesterday's info to everyone who hasn't caught up yet. Worst comes to worst? Adam might have a proper challenge next time they try to rob him, and he'd know their standard operating procedures already, because he'd be the one to tell them what to do.

There wasn't really a situation in which he lost here, he could only gain.

"I'm confident we can work something out." Graymeat responded jovially, a serpent-like gleam in his eyes.

At about that moment, the door crashed open, his employer practically dragging a sleepy looking meatbag with shaggy hair out by the hand. Almost immediately, a wash of dialogue and chattering came from her, that figure, and the four girls in the room.

Ah, so she found this 'Soma' after all…

Adam wasn't impressed, yet again. He gestured with one hand, Graymeat handing the receipts back to him with a very friendly smile on his face.

"How does lunch on a saturni sound?" Graymeat asked, to which Adam nodded his head back and forth in consideration. He was already going to be busy saturday evening at the Ganesha house, meeting the soldiermeat for drinks…

"I'll be here at noon, leaving by six at the latest. I got a meeting in the evening." He growled out.

"Perfect. I'll have something prepared for us then, and we can talk business."

After a few moments of watching their respective employers talk to the girls in the room, from a distance, Graymeat spoke again. "Oh, and don't worry about Canoe and his band. Your message was sloppy, but received."

"Forgot how fragile meat was." Adam responded with a rumble. "Don't worry about the profits your familia wasted that day, it was only seventy thousand in equipment and twenty five drops."

Graymeat gave a small grin at that. "I'm so glad we understand each other."

—

In the end, Sleepyhead had allowed all four to be transferred out of his familia after a brief chat. It was fairly obvious that Graymeat was the one responsible for running the show, and running it somewhat incompetently at that.

"Buh-bye Soma-kun! I'll take good care of the girls!" Tatertit* chirped as they left, waving a hand and walking backwards to say goodbye to the short figure clad in an all-obscuring brown robe, who was lazily waving back.

Adam grunted, nodding once with Graymeat and getting a move on immediately after. Nothing more to be said. The girls in front were excitedly chattering with one another, save for Pipsqueak, who had decided to walk next to him silently.

"We'll update everyone when we get back, okay?" His employer declared, turning right around and walking down the streets. "Then, we'll have more stew in the morning! Leftovers are the best when made with love!"

"We need to expand." Adam grunted. "There should be two-hundred and seventy thousand in the familia account now."

His employer tripped and fell headfirst onto the street. The girls fretted over her briefly. Adam continued. "Might be enough to buy one of the surrounding buildings and start on renovations. We need a properly fortified base soon enough."

His employer pushed herself up, scowling at him. "You need to stop bullying your goddess, you know?!"

"You're the one who decided to trip, Tatertit*." Adam grunted back.

Tatertit* reeled back at that, a vaguely offended look on her face. She reached up to cup her boobs and muttered. "T-they're not potatoes."

"You're wearing a potato sack." Adam pointed out.

"It's not a potato sack!" Tatertit* hotly denied, punching his hip and accomplishing nothing. "You know this kind of dress is really popular up in Heaven!" She growled at him.

"It leaves your thighs and back completely exposed, of course it's popular, Tatertit*."

"They're not potatoes! Stop saying that!"

The girls had begun to giggle about halfway through the exchange, Pipsqueak included.

—

Adam
Level 1

Basic Abilities
Strength - I87
Endurance - E400
Dexterity - I84
Agility - I83
Magic - I12

Abilities

Skills
Paradisus Sub Sole Rubro - Unusual Interactions with Charm Effects.

Spells

—

Bell Cranel
Level 1

Basic Abilities
Strength - I70
Endurance - I80
Dexterity - I70
Agility - I73
Magic - I0

Abilities

Skills

Spells

—

Liliruca Arde
Level 1

Basic Abilities
Strength - H104
Endurance - H186
Dexterity - G295
Agility - E465
Magic - E495

Abilities

Skills
Artel Assist - When user carries a certain amount of weight, bolsters abilities to partially compensate.

Spells
Cinder Ella - Transformation Magic, allows user to transform into anything of roughly equal size to self.