Chapter 114 New Meeting, Alongside the Known
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
After calming the overexcited Dahlia and sending her off to bed with a reminder to rest for tomorrow, I finally turned my attention to what she’d brought back. There was plenty I could work with. But first, I needed to handle maintenance—her Triteleia, the inner-muscle armor, and the rest of her equipment.
I hadn’t had a moment to service them since the fight with the Trimodoki. The moment I began the appraisal, a chill ran down my spine. Several abnormalities—small, but dangerous—had gone unnoticed. If left alone, one could have caused a complete system failure mid-battle, turning her own gear into a burden. Some artificial muscle fibers were nearly burnt through; parts of the armor had warped enough to start grinding against each other. The auto-repair function had patched the surface, but the deeper sections were untouched. I went through each section carefully, restoring crushed conduits within the muscle fibers and straightening the armor plates with my Crafting skill. The process went smoothly. Even the jet engine needed only a minor cleaning—a few specks of mana dust clinging inside. The frame and fins, thankfully, were still in perfect shape.
Her chainsaw—no, her “Heimatzaanrath”—was another story. The lubricant had aged to a dark smear, and traces of blood-rust clung to its edges. I didn’t want to imagine what she’d been cutting with it. I disassembled the whole thing, scrubbed every gear clean, replaced the oil, and checked the chain for slack. A touch of Crafting brought it back to its prime—stronger, meaner, almost eager for violence. That one, at least, was done.
Next came the mana blade—right, this one still didn’t have a name. Inside, I found residue from mana loss and scorched channels from overloading. It made my head ache. After clearing the dust, I restored the conduits and streamlined the spell formula. The result was a weapon that consumed less mana and struck harder… though for Dahlia, who fought differently, it might not matter much. A shame, really.
Now then, time to put the core stones she brought back to use. The first experiment would be on her Sazanka. I disassembled it completely, exposing the internal framework, and began to redesign the section between the spell circuit and mana intake. My idea was to introduce a revolver-like chamber forged in mithril, with core stones loaded where bullets would be. Out of seven chambers, one stayed empty—marked and etched with a compression spell to intensify mana flow. Each chamber was numbered, its marker guiding the shift between elemental properties. I mounted a rotation gear and shaft, completing the cylinder’s turning mechanism, and added twin spell seals that clasped the core stone from both sides. The system grew more complex, but Sazanka had always been built for modular upgrades. Its outer form remained unchanged. I even adjusted Triteleia’s control formulas so that, even if the Fireworks attachment’s Elingium unit were swapped for this modified Sazanka, it would still operate flawlessly.
After such heavy modification, I ran through every joint, checked for wear, tightened loose screws, wiped away the last specks of dust. Dahlia’s equipment was done—for now. There were still more core stones left. Time to push further before the real test.
Apparently, she’d run into a horde of Iron Golems during her last dive—enough that she’d hauled back forty kilograms of iron. I’d borrow ten. Add to that five kilos of mithril. The goal: a magic device shaped like a warhammer, the so-called Elemental Hammer. Normally, these devices were simple—just a hammer embedded with a core stone to grant one fixed elemental property.
But my version followed the same principle as Sazanka’s upgrade. A rotating cartridge along the shaft, allowing the core stones to be swapped mid-battle, granting command over all elemental types. I’d considered merging the stones alchemically—like forming a single egg—but something about that path felt… too divine. Too close to the Archangel’s domain. I let the idea go.
The structure centered on a mithril core wrapped in demonsteel. Four kilos of mithril went into the shaft, one into the head; all ten kilos of demonsteel covered the head. The forged mithril core formed a T-shape—its face a shallow dish, the opposite side tapering into a pick. I set a circular part between head and shaft, mounting a compressed core stone there. When the circuits aligned, the stone reacted, cloaking the weapon in its element. I linked gears for manual dial control, then tested it—turning the dial and feeding mana through. The mithril face shimmered, changing hues with each element. Success. Elemental strikes were now possible—finally, a solid countermeasure against undead foes.
With that, I’d learned enough about handling core stones. It was time for the true project.
In the far corner of the workshop, hidden behind stacks of scrap, sat a small vault. I opened it, revealing a bar of mithril—the same metal once recovered from the Baral estate, used in crafting Ethelena’s Lonicera. I took five hundred grams, sealed the rest away, and retrieved the entrusted Lonicera itself for maintenance. Blueprints took shape in my mind: a larger frame, reinforced structure, expanded mana capacity, and a new special mechanism. The silhouette grew closer to the revolvers of my past life, firing elemental rounds like Sazanka and the hammer.
For practice, I made a prototype out of iron. It failed. The spell formulas had separated across the barrel, cylinder, and hammer, breaking their harmony. The previous Lonicera had been a single-body design; introducing a revolver structure had fractured its unity. Sazanka worked because its mechanisms had space to link cleanly. The hammer worked because its design was simple. But the arcane gun—its very complexity turned against it.
Still, I wouldn’t give up. I began the redesign. Removing the revolver mechanism was out of the question—it would make the weapon no better than a machine pistol. Nor would I settle for an auto-loader; replacing core stones by hand would be tedious. Then, a memory surfaced—one from an absurd adventure game of my previous world. The twin of Ethelena’s Gloriosa: an “automatic revolver,” a hybrid design. Its barrel and hammer were offset downward, a strange but brilliant structure. Mimicking Sazanka’s internals, that approach might just work.
Redesign came first. I linked the upper slide with the hammer assembly, allowing it to disengage the cylinder lock and rotate freely. Once the desired elemental chamber aligned, sliding it back locked the hammer again—pressing the cylinder tight against the barrel to complete the spell circuit. A clean, efficient mechanism: the moment of contact became the trigger that awakened the Arcane Gun. After finishing the blueprints, I built a prototype from iron, testing every motion. A few flaws surfaced—misalignments, timing delays—but I fixed them one by one, reshaping each piece until it worked like a living thing.
With that final design as the base, I began rebuilding Ethelena’s Lonicera. I removed the grip panels and carefully detached Baral-san’s Soul Core from within, mindful not to let the inner mana disperse. Then, melting down the old mithril frame, I merged it with newly forged mithril, coaxing the old and new mana to blend. Both were of the Baral line—there was no rejection, only growth. Unlike the usual forging method that draws mana out of the metal, this technique sealed every fragment within. It worked beautifully.
From that enchanted mithril plate, I cut each part and shaped them using Crafting skill—precision down to a hundredth of a millimeter. Every piece had to fit without tension, every line of power flow unbroken. One fault, one uneven curve, could mean disaster.
When the parts were ready, I began engraving the spell formulas. Using the old Lonicera’s foundation, I integrated the efficiency patterns my mother-in-law had taught me, expanding the elemental conversion circuits inside the cylinder. Each part was assembled as I went, testing for displacement and mana flow. My own mana couldn’t draw out the weapon’s full potential, but it flowed cleanly enough to confirm success. The circuits sang—quietly, flawlessly. Even with my limited power, the weapon emitted a trace of real force. Perhaps the new optimization had raised the raw output. I’d have to report that to the mayor later.
I assembled everything—every screw, every spring, every carved rune. Since the cylinder no longer needed to slide out except for inspection, I removed that feature entirely, reducing moving parts. Still, complexity invited error. I performed test after test, again and again, until even the slightest malfunction probability—one in a hundred thousand—was crushed to zero. Oiling, polishing, tightening, repeating until every motion felt like silk. By dawn, the new Lonicera stood complete. Tomorrow morning, I’d have Ethelena test-fire it for calibration.
Of course, the system recognized it as something entirely new. Even Appraisal couldn’t read its name or stats now. From the mana structure, though, I estimated its base output around ten, with the potential to scale sharply with its wielder’s power.
Then I remembered—Ethelena had asked me for a stuffed doll. So, I summoned Middle Tatara and had her stand on the workbench. A quick Appraisal gave me her dimensions. I pulled out felt, adjusted the dye through Crafting to get the perfect shades, and began cutting. Piece by piece, I sewed the parts together, filling them with bead cushions. After thirty minutes, the Tatara plush was finished. Middle Tatara poked the doll curiously, tilting her head when it didn’t move. “That one’s not a golem,” I told her. “It won’t wake up.”
Amused, I made another—this one of Ethelena, same size as Tatara’s. Where the Tatara doll had a sulky little face, the Ethelena one beamed with a gentle smile. Watching Middle Tatara hug it tight, I couldn’t help but laugh. Even her reactions mirrored mine. I ended up crafting the whole set: Yohira, Tatchia, and Ichige dolls, storing them neatly in my inventory. Still, Middle Tatara seemed reluctant to let go of her Ethelena doll, so I made her a second one and let her keep the first. Once she was returned to inventory, I made another Tatara plush—just in case Ethelena wanted one of her own.
When everything was done, I took a bath and went to bed. Ethelena must have worn herself out chasing Tatchia; she was already asleep when I came in. Maybe it was for the best—I doubted I could’ve handled a proper conversation anyway. Still, a small part of me wished I could’ve asked her for a massage before sleeping.
The next morning, I rose early and began preparing breakfast. We’d need plenty of energy for today’s “Tatchia capture,” so I planned something hearty but not heavy: a clubhouse sandwich. The ingredients—chicken bacon, pork bacon, lettuce, tomato, onion, and eggs. I started with the mayonnaise, adding a pinch of master spice for a faint kick. Then I sliced the tomato and onion thin, soaked them with the lettuce in cold water to crisp them. Chicken bacon went into fine strips, pork into thin slices. The eggs I fried, breaking the yolks just enough to cook evenly; when the whites set, I seasoned them with salt and pepper, laid bacon on top, splashed a little water, covered them to steam for half a minute, then flipped for a light golden finish.
I toasted the bread, spread mayo on the first slice, placed the bacon and eggs, then stacked another slice spread with mayo, the vegetables, and chicken bacon. One more layer of toast on top, two skewers through the stack, a clean diagonal cut—smooth and effortless thanks to a razor-sharp blade. The tomato held its shape perfectly, the layers gleaming. A proper clubhouse sandwich. I thought about adding ketchup or cheese next time—it would probably match beautifully with the eggs.
Then it hit me—I’d completely forgotten the soup. But when I turned, Ethelena was already ladling corn soup onto the table. I hadn’t even noticed her approach—Stealth Step and Concealment had masked her presence entirely. It startled me more than I’d like to admit.
”So,” she said between bites, “today I’m planning to corner Chii-chan here.”
That was Ethelena’s sudden declaration over breakfast. Apparently, she’d been plotting this all along.
”Here?” I asked. “You mean in my house?”
She nodded. “Uh-huh. Chii-chan knows the way here, but I don’t think she remembers the area well enough to navigate.”
Fair point. The district lay between the dungeon and central administration, half-developed and easy to get lost in.
”We’ll use Tatara’s bird-type golem to watch from above,” she continued, “and the small Tataras on the ground to track movement. That way we can constantly locate her position.”
So… surveillance satellites and security cameras. High-tech tactics from another life. How did she even come up with that?
”Tatara,” Ethelena asked, “can the accessories we’re wearing receive the visual feeds from the small Tataras and bird golems?”
”It’s possible,” I said, “but not smart. Tatchia has the same kind of accessory. She’d notice.”
”Oh… right.” Ethelena’s shoulders slumped.
Seeing Ethelena slump in disappointment, I pulled out four mithril plates and four mana stones. Activating my Crafting skill, I flattened the mithril into thin panels and etched them with a Spell Formula of sensitivity. Over one side, I layered a thin sheet of mana stone glass, then wove another spell into it—one that could receive and display the visual feeds from the bird-type golems and the Tatara network. When the last symbol sealed, the screen pulsed softly to life.
A magic tablet. Crude, but effective.
”Sorry it’s rough,” I said, placing it on the table. “Little Tatara—lend me your sight.”
”Taah!”
At her chirp, the tablet shimmered, and a view of the world from her tiny perspective appeared on its surface—our faces framed by sunlight, watching her watch us. The connection was stable.
”With this, we can trace Tatia’s movements through the city using the small Tataras,” I explained. “The raptors will handle aerial tracking. You think you can manage that?”
The bird-type golem gave a sharp cry in answer. Its vision split onto the tablet, filling half the screen with a wide sweep of rooftops and streets.
”Tatara,” Ethelena asked curiously, “how long will the mana in this contraption last?”
”That depends on the owner’s mana,” I said. “Fully charged, it holds about as much as a single small mana stone.”
Not that I really knew how much energy that translated to—what counted as “a day’s worth” of mana in an average household, anyway?
”The real concern,” I continued, “is how long the little Tataras themselves can last. Once they run dry, they stop moving. Only Middle Tatara can recharge them.”
”Ah… that’s tricky,” Ethelena murmured.
If only there were some natural way for golems to regenerate mana. But perhaps the system’s limitation was deliberate—a boundary set by the world itself. Maybe if I broke that rule, these golems could be the reason I’d get expelled from this world altogether. I didn’t think the world wanted that, though. Not really.
Besides, the small Tataras couldn’t carry an “egg” core—their frames would shatter from the output. At best, I could attach a condenser like the ones in the telekinetic armor. Still, not much help.
Then the raptor golem nudged my cheek with its head, feathers brushing my skin. A gentle gesture—but it carried intent.
”…You’re offering to carry Middle Tatara to them, aren’t you?”
A single call confirmed it. So that was the plan: the raptor would ferry Middle Tatara to recharge the smaller ones. When I explained it to her, she puffed her chest and thumped it proudly. Smart little things, all of them.
”Then I’ll leave it to you,” I said. “Bring Tatia to me.”
”Taah!!”
With that, the Tataras—large and small—and the bird golem cried out in unison and dashed from the house. One of the smaller ones stumbled with a soft splat, but another paused to help it up before they both ran off again. They’d be fine… probably.
”Hey, Ethelena,” I called.
”Eh? What is it?”
She looked up from the tablet, eyes glazed in that distracted way people got when watching cat videos. Figures.
”Try this out in the yard,” I said, handing over the weapon. “Let me know right away if it needs adjustment.”
”Wait—this is… Lonicera?”
She took the evolved Lonicera carefully, surprise flickering in her eyes as her fingers brushed the grip. The mana signature must have told her what it was, even if the form was completely different. She hefted it, testing the balance—the longer barrel, the sturdier frame.
”…Feels a little heavier?”
”Yeah. I reinforced the frame with mithril.”
”I see. It’s not bad—it actually feels… reassuring.”
”Also, the barrel sits lower now. Your aim might feel off at first. Test it in the yard a bit.”
The grip seemed to fit her hand perfectly; no complaints there. She downed the rest of her soup in one gulp, then rose and headed for the garden, eager as always.
”That cylinder holds elemental core stones,” I called after her. “Press the switch beside the hammer to rotate it and test each element.”
”Got it!”
I watched her jog toward the testing field, hair catching the morning light. Yohira, watching the whole thing, wore a sly grin.
”You two are quite close, aren’t you?” she teased.
”Well, her mana gun’s only ever been upgraded before,” I said, scratching my cheek. “This is the first real evolution. She’s earned the excitement.”
”Don’t dodge the point,” Yohira said with that knowing look. “You poured your heart into that thing.”
”…You noticed, huh?”
”Of course. I’m your familiar, after all—and Ichika’s noticed too.”
I glanced at Ichika. Her expression carried faint worry. A pang of guilt hit me. Maybe I really was a lousy master sometimes.
”Master,” she said softly, “please, don’t push yourself too hard-degozaru.”
”I know, I know… but with the student campaign coming up, it’s hard to stay still.”
She stepped closer, fingers brushing mine, then gently took my hand. Maybe she always reached out like this when anxious. Maybe I should do the same more often.
”…Good morning, Master.”
The voice came from the living room doorway—Dahlia, rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep but neatly dressed. Probably preparing for her own errands today.
”Morning, Dahlia,” I said. “Still sleepy?”
”I apologize… I was too excited about today to sleep properly.”
”Excited, huh? You sound like a kid,” Yohira chuckled before I could reply. She wasn’t wrong.
”Oh—right,” I said. “I’ve got something to give you. You up for it?”
”Fweh… something to give?”
I pulled out the freshly serviced Triteleia and handed it over. Despite her drowsy look, she inspected it with sharp precision, nodding once before storing it in her inventory. Even half-awake, her maintenance habits were flawless.
”And this too,” I added. “I fixed the issues we spotted from the last battle.”
”…You haven’t submitted the report yet, right?”
”Not yet. This was just a redesign based on the damage data—no user requests added. We still need live testing.”
”I see… then I’ll consult with the city mayor.”
”She won’t approve it right away, but it’s worth a try.”
As Dahlia’s eyes cleared, relief settled over me. Then I drew out the real showpiece of the day.
”This one you haven’t seen,” I said. “I made it during the Lonicera trials—well, technically it’s a modified version. Prototype Mana Cannon with adaptive elemental conversion… the upgraded Sazanka.”
”…!”
Dahlia froze, staring at the massive cannon in her hands. Her eyes widened as she examined it, listening to the faint hum within—the quiet pulse of magic that only an Automaton Maiden could hear.
”With those core stones Dahlia found yesterday, the cannon can now fire not just raw mana, but elemental rounds,” I explained. “Until now it was a pure mana launcher. From here on, it can channel attributes directly.”
”…,” she said quietly.
”That battle with the Trimodoki—if you hadn’t been there, this city might not exist anymore. You came when we needed you most, and because of that, we’re all still alive. Think of this as my way of saying thanks.”
Maybe gratitude meant little when it came to experimental weaponry, but still… it felt right. Dahlia deserved more than words—and maybe, just maybe, this would make her happy.
”…Master,” she murmured.
”What is it? Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
”On the contrary,” she said, her voice calm but bright with focus. “I would like you to name this modified Mana Cannon. Since it differs from the original Sazanka, it deserves a new one.”
”Uh… let’s see… how about Lantana?”
”Lantana. Understood.”
Lantana—the flower of seven colors, ever-shifting. A fitting name for a weapon that could shift between six elements and pure mana, seven in total.
She stored Lantana neatly in her inventory, sat at the table, and ate the clubhouse sandwich in brisk, efficient bites before standing again.
”Master, I will go report to the city mayor and conduct field tests on the magic device.”
”Ah… sure.”
For once, she skipped her usual “splendid” declarations and rapid-fire chanting. That alone was unnerving.
”I will finish quickly,” she continued. “Test-firing Lantana and further tuning will be done upon return.”
”You’re serious? With your magic output, that thing could level half the district if you don’t restrain it.”
”Currently, I am surrounded by several new magical devices,” she said with the calm intensity of someone already halfway gone to another world. “If I do not pour this passion into testing, my love for magic devices will ignite this city instead.”
”That… sounds alarmingly plausible.”
Her face remained blank, but her pupils had dilated to full eclipse. Terrifying.
”If I finish early, I’ll assist with your mission,” she added.
”You can manage that?”
”I haven’t heard the details, but I assume it concerns Tatia-sama’s return.”
”You figured that out fast.”
”I’ve watched your party closely,” Dahlia said simply. “I know the strength of those bonds. When something precious goes missing, it’s natural to struggle to fill that void.”
Then she turned fully toward us, lowering herself into a graceful curtsy.
”I, Dahlia Julon, hold great affection for this party and its master. It may not show easily, but I, too, care for Tatia-sama. An incomplete circle feels… lonely.”
She straightened, meeting my eyes directly.
”Please, Master—don’t waver. Hold tight to what matters most. Never let it go.”
”I will,” I said quietly. “I’ll make the choice I can be proud of as your master.”
”Yes, my Master.”
With her usual composed bow, Dahlia left the house. Mentally unshakable, that one.
As she disappeared down the street, Ichika watched with a faintly troubled expression.
”Master,” she asked softly, “do you see Dahlia as a younger sister-in-law—or as a servant-degozaru?”
”Huh? Dahlia?” The question caught me off guard.
But the answer was simple.
”I see Dahlia as Dahlia,” I said. “Not a servant. Not a sister-in-law. Just… her. Same as how I see you as Ichika—nothing more, nothing less.”
Ichika blinked, then smiled, small and warm. “So-degozaru. That is just like you.”
Yohira chuckled faintly beside her, wearing that look that said she had something snarky ready but was restraining herself—barely.
At that moment, Ethelena came back from the garden, eyes shining. “Tatara, this is amazing!”
I smiled. “Glad you like it. Just remember, your mana hasn’t fully synchronized with it yet. Don’t expect the old firepower right away.”
”Got it! Oh—what’s this new Lonicera’s name?”
She completely ignored my warning, of course. Figures.
”I’m torn,” I admitted. “Keep the old name, or give it a new one.”
”What were you thinking?”
”Rinne.”
”Rinne?” Yohira tilted her head. “As in… reincarnation?”
Ichika sighed. “Different meaning-degozaru. Likely a pun.”
Yeah, that sounded right.
”Then let’s combine them,” Ethelena said brightly. “This one’s Lonicera Rinne.“
Something clicked—literally. A faint hum echoed through the air, and I felt the bond settle into place. The naming had taken root. I cast Appraisal.
* * *
*Arcane Gun – Lonicera Rinne*
Magic Attack: 10 + X
Mana Cost: 5–15
Range: 5
Special Abilities:
• Exclusive to Demon Clan Baral lineage
• Adds (Mana Cost × 2) to user’s Magic Attack when used by a bloodline member
• Overdrive II
• Element Change – Seven Attributes
* * *
”Wow,” I muttered. “That’s… absurd.”
Variable mana consumption meant it could scale its output precisely. Combined with elemental weaknesses and status effects, the tactical options were ridiculous. At max charge, it hit with the force of mid-tier combat magic. Overkill, honestly.
”Do you think we could use it to catch Chii-chan?” Ethelena asked hopefully.
”Only if you paralyze her with lightning or freeze her legs with ice,” I said. “Though doing that on cobblestone sounds… painful.”
Lightning inflicted paralysis; ice, freezing. Both could halt movement. Water made either more effective. Fire followed by lightning could burn and shock simultaneously, while water or ice could even soothe burns if timed right. It was like a system built for combat experimentation.
”…Maybe I should just lure her into a sealed room,” Ethelena mused, dead serious. “One she can’t leave until we—uh—make up.”
”Wow,” I said flatly. “Hearing it out loud, that plan sounds impressively stupid.”
Really—who comes up with a scheme that literally requires sleeping with someone to reclaim a lost companion bond? Only in a world that runs on eroge logic would that even begin to make sense.
”If Tatara uses his ‘Sex Sorcery’ and, you know, that Tatara rod, Chii-chan will be utterly lovestruck—she’ll never leave again!”
”Where does that confidence even come from?” I sighed. “You realize my actual experience starts and ends with you, right, Ethelena? …Yeah.”
Well—unless you counted Yohira and Ichika, though those never went all the way. And honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d satisfied anyone even then.
”…Master,” Ichika said softly, “you can be confident-degozaru.”
”That’s right,” Yohira added, cheeks reddening. “That kind of… uh, blade you carry—it’s a symbol of vigor, you know.”
”Okay, okay, enough with the vivid commentary.” My face burned. “Seriously, can we not?”
Did Ethelena even realize what they were talking about?
”See?” she said, all smiles. “Torakuma and Ichi-san agree with me!”
”Yeah, that’s not helping.”
Then again, considering Ethelena’s succubus abilities—especially her knack for detecting anything remotely lewd—she probably understood all too well.
And with that incredible start, the “Operation Tatia Capture” began. Ethelena and her team marched out, tablet in hand, gleefully plotting. Hinagiku-san stayed behind, both hands clamped over her ears like a child avoiding bad words—though judging from how red her neck was under her hair, she’d definitely heard everything. My apologies, sincerely.
* * *
Once the house quieted, I opened the shop for the day. I’d mentioned yesterday that I still needed to finish calibrating armor for Mr. Narikin and the Head of Judiciary—if they came in today, it’d save me a trip. Still, even I doubted Narikin would show up two days in a row.
Then the bell over the door jingled.
Three visitors.
”Welcome,” I said automatically.
”Shopkeeper! I’ll take all the healing ointment you’ve got!”
”Of course. Current stock is four thousand and nine units.”
”Oh, down a bit, huh?”
”Yes. I donated a thousand to the disaster victims two days ago.”
”…That’s a number to be proud of.”
”Agreed. It means people out there are surviving because of it. As a crafter, that’s something worth pride.”
It was Narikin, of course, placing his usual order. Some routines just anchored the day.
”Would you like the ointments packaged, sir?” I asked.
”Not this time,” he said, gesturing behind him. “Today we need armor adjustments, like you mentioned… and also—hey!”
He pushed someone forward—a small-framed woman who’d been hiding between him and the Head of Judiciary. I didn’t recognize her. Dark twin tails framed a sharp face, eyes a striking violet. A long robe hung loosely over her shoulders, and a staff nearly her height rested against her back. Definitely a mage.
”I’ve heard plenty about you,” she said sharply. “So you’re the shopkeeper who sold my leader all that healing ointment and armor?”
Ah, a party member then. Strong-willed, from the tone alone.
Her gaze flicked up and down. “Huh. My leader talks about you with such delight—I expected a woman. Turns out, you’re a man.”
”Er… yes,” I said, half laughing. “Have been all my life, actually.”
Though with Ethelena’s “Sex Sorcery,” that fact might not be permanent much longer.
”What’s your name?” she asked bluntly.
”Tatara Julon.”
”Julon, huh… you a student?”
”Yes. If all goes well this year, I’ll graduate.”
”I see. Judging by your mana—magic user?”
”No, I’m more of a frontliner. Not much talent, but I make do.”
”Hm.”
Narikin looked nervous, like he wanted to intervene but didn’t dare. The woman, however—her eyes missed nothing. Keen, precise. She’d probably already pieced together that I was a crafter-adventurer type: someone who dove dungeons but made gear for a living.
”I’m a mage,” she said finally. “Got any catalysts for staves?”
”Afraid not,” I replied. “Only common materials—iron, steel, and a few odd metals. Nothing refined enough for magic conduction.”
”So you don’t sell catalysts?”
”I don’t.”
A pause. Testing me, maybe.
”…Then tell me,” she said slowly, “just how far up the material ladder can you go?”
”Experience-wise?” I smiled faintly. “Up to adamantite-class magic metals.”
Her eyes widened. Narikin’s too. The woman—who definitely gave off a catlike energy—leaned forward, tail invisible but implied.
”I see. And the reason you can’t sell them?”
”Orders from the city mayor and the merchant guildmaster,” I said simply.
”So if you did sell them, you’d dominate the market,” she murmured, smirking. “Makes sense.”
Gods, this woman was sharp. It was almost unsettling how fast she saw through everything.
”All right,” she said. “If I were to push my luck and buy something… what would you recommend?”
”For a staff? Mithril, or wood from a world tree lineage, if you can get it.”
”And armor?”
”That would be rare-monster material—the Shroud of the Undead King.“
”…Didn’t that go for ten million at one point?”
”Market bottomed out. Now it’s two fifty.”
She laughed softly. “You’re fun, you know that? You talk like you actually know the trade.”
She did too—probably as informed as Scientia. This was getting interesting.
”So,” she said, tilting her head, “if I asked for the Shroud of the Undead King, could you produce it?”
”I have two in stock.”
”…You’re joking.”
”Nope.”
Her mouth fell open. Narikin and the Head of Judiciary both sighed, the kind of sigh that meant “here we go again.”
”I could pay four hundred thousand on the spot,” she said. “What’s your price?”
”Two fifty.”
”…You sure you’re running a business?”
I shrugged. “Got the materials for free. Besides, I hate gouging adventurers for what they need to stay alive.”
For once, she was speechless. Behind her, Narikin and the judge both smiled—half proud, half exasperated.
Then she grinned, sharp and delighted.
”Well then. I like you. I’ll take it—the Shroud of the Undead King!“
”Thank you kindly.”
I retrieved the armor, and she pulled out her coin pouch without hesitation. Two hundred fifty thousand. Middle-tier adventurer, my ass—she had noble blood, guaranteed.
She examined the fabric with a professional’s eye. “It’s genuine. The mana flow’s perfect—this would boost my magic attack considerably.”
”I always recommend it to serious mages,” I said. “It’s worth every coin.”
No counterfeit bills, no mistakes. Clean, precise. Definitely nobility.
”Thank you, shopkeeper,” she said at last.
”The pleasure’s mine. Customers like you are the best kind.”
”As they should be,” she said with a smirk. “A sincere craftsman deserves a sincere buyer.”
Without thinking, we clasped hands firmly. I couldn’t help grinning back.
”Damn it,” Narikin muttered from behind us. “How do you make friends that fast?”
Notes:
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• Ichige – Fox youkai ninja who sneaks into the city illegally. Captured after Hinagiku and Julon subdue her during an immigration clash caused by her infiltration. Serves Torakuma clan but disobeys orders. Calls Julon “Master.” Clumsy and childish.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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