Dungeon ni Deai o Motomeru no wa Machigatte Iru Darou ka

The sky is covered in darkness.

The sun hasn’t yet risen in the eastern sky, but the horizon is beginning to lighten. It’s that moment before dawn when you’re not sure if it’s night or morning.

The city wall…I’ve never been up here before.

I woke up much earlier than normal this morning and climbed up to the top of the wall encircling the city of Orario.

I’m standing on the northwest edge. Looking back inside over the city, the view is absolutely breathtaking.

I can see the Pantheon, the Coliseum, buildings that are probably home to large Familias, and other tall structures all at once. Even from this distance, I can make out the minute details of the craftsmanship on each of them. Color me impressed!

But of course, there’s one that stands out above all the rest in the center of the city: Babel Tower. Its sheer presence is almost overwhelming. Add in the little houses filling the city blocks, and I know I will never get tired of standing here.

Looking up and down the main streets that separate Orario into eight pieces, most buildings’ lights are dim. It’s almost like the clamor of the city is quieting. One by one, specks of light go out as magic lamps are being shut off all over the place.

And to think, I actually live in this metropolis! Shivers go down my spine and my heart beats faster with excitement every time I remember where I am.

“Are you prepared?”

“Ah, y-yes!”

Her voice ringing like a bell in my ears, I turn around to face Miss Wallenstein.

She’s the reason I’m here right now. I’m going to learn how to fight.

She said that her Familia, Loki Familia, is going on an expedition in a few days. So we don’t have much time, but she’ll work with me until she leaves. That’s why we decided yesterday to start training today.

“Sorry to make you come all the way out here…”

“D-don’t worry! It’s not a problem!”

Being a member of Loki Familia, this is something she isn’t supposed to do. If another member of her Familia finds out that she’s training a member of a different group in combat techniques, there will be major problems for sure.

That’s why we’ve come all the way to the top of the wall—to stay out of sight.

Thinking about it from her position, staying hidden and only meeting occasionally is the only option.

As for why we’re here so early, I need to go into the Dungeon like normal to make money. So rather than train after a hard day’s work, it makes more sense to do this first.

“Well, um, Miss Wallenstein, what should I…”

“…Aiz.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Aiz.”

The second I realize she’s telling me how to address her, I nearly fall over backward.

“Everyone calls me that. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Eh, erm, um……No, I’m comfortable with that.”

Why would I refuse? I say to myself with my hand over my mouth. Something in her voice sounds like she’ll be disappointed if I don’t call her by her first name.

My cheeks flush red. Of course, there hasn’t been much time when I’ve stood in front of Miss Wallenstein…er, Aiz, and not been bright red…

Anyway, hopefully I’ve been able to convey some impression of how strange this situation is.

“…A-Aiz, what should I do now?”

“…A good question.”

“Huh?”

Her voice is slightly heavy; how should I react to that?

Aiz’s eyebrows fall as she puts a hand to her delicate chin. She looks like she’s trying to squeeze an idea out of her brain.

“I’ve been thinking very hard…since yesterday.”

Her head snaps the other way as if her neck is on a spring, like a child being scolded.

Where’s all the grace and refinement she’s always had?

This is…strange.

My idol, my Aiz Wallenstein, and the real person are drifting apart…

“…Can you show me your form?”

“Y-yes, sure.”

I do what she said, working a light sweat in the process.

Taking my dagger out, and feeling a bit embarrassed, I take two or three swipes at the air beside me as she watches.

She just stares at me, eyes following me intently.

“Do you only use your knife?”

“Eh…… ?”

“The knife wielders I know use kicks and martial arts to fight.”

Come to think of it, she’s right. When fighting in the Dungeon, I rely completely on my weapon. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve kicked or punched a monster.

I look down at my limbs for a moment before Aiz says, “Give it to me,” and takes the weapon out of my hand.

She strikes a pose; I guess she’s going to show me an example?

“…Like this.”

She’s holding the dagger backward in her right hand, the blade coming out from behind her pinkie, and her left knee is forward, foot hovering just above the ground.

With her knee in midair, Aiz tilts her head to the side.

She puts her leg back down, and lifts it up one more time…again tilting her head to the side.

“… ?”

“…”

Aiz lifts and lowers her knee over and over, and each time she tilts her head.

At this point, I can’t hide my sweat or my confusion. It feels really awkward, watching her like this. But she’s giving me an example to follow. I should watch as closely as I can.

Does she just…not have a clue…?

“Hm—”

—Was my last thought.

Aiz’s body suddenly blurred, as though she’d taken hold of something.

“—Huh?”

Using her right leg to jump into the air with a smack, her whole body spins.

Completely ignoring the stunned sounds coming out of my mouth, she extends her left leg, tracing an arc around her in the air.

Her miniskirt flutters; dark blue leggings up to her knees flash before my eyes.

The instant her pale-white inner thigh flashes in front of my eyes—I’m launched skyward.

“Ah—”

A high-speed spinning jump kick.

I’d been too close to the frighteningly fast kick of a top-class adventurer. I both see it and don’t as her foot hits me square in the chest and sends me flying toward the edge of the city wall.

I can’t react, can’t defend, can’t even scream, as my body slams into the stone barrier with incredible force, my outstretched arms and legs hitting hard enough to leave a full-body imprint behind as I collapse to the floor.

What the hell was that?!

She kicked me right out of my own body.

It takes all the strength I have left to lift my head up enough to get a look at Aiz. Her face is expressionless as always, but it looks like this time her eyes are a bit wider as she stares down at me.

…Yep, she’s clueless…

The last of my strength gone, I manage to arrive at that one realization before I pass out.

“Sorry…”

I’m only out for a few seconds. I wake up to Aiz’s apology and a sad look on her face.

I do my best to force a smile and tell her not to worry about it, but my chest is in pain and I think I’m choking on my collarbone.

After that, we try a few more times through trial and error, but nothing feels like it’s working.

Seeing her face deep in thought after every failure, it feels like I might need to make a rather uncomfortable exit.

Under a sky still waiting for sunrise, a very heavy mood descends onto both of us.

“…Enough. Let us fight.”

“Huh?!”

She’s been silent for I don’t know how long, before her head snaps up and she speaks to me.

She stands, her hand firmly grasping the hilt of her sword.

I jump in surprise as she draws her sword and sets it down next to the barrier. Then she turns to me, brandishing her sheath as a weapon.

“I can’t teach as well as Reveria and the others…So I think this is best.”

Suddenly, her aura is different.

She holds her sheath in one hand, taking a defensive stance. However, her sheath and her sword have almost the same reach, so I can’t let my guard down for a second.

Goose bumps shoot out of my skin a moment before my muscles react.

I draw my dagger from its sheath tucked into the back of my armor and brace myself, all in one fluid motion.

“Yes…That’s good.”

“… ?!”

“As you did just now, I want you to perceive as much as you can from what’s about to happen.”

I’ll have to learn from firsthand experience through sparing, as we fight. That’s what she’s saying.

She’s telling me to learn from the impact of blade hitting blade, from reading each other’s movements.

“B-but…I’m using a real blade, and you’re…”

“It’s fine.”

Her rejection of my kindness is so swift and curt that I have to clear my throat.

Showing sympathy to an under-armed opponent is a good way to get killed. The seriousness in her eyes is screaming that at me right now.

She’s overwhelming me with only a sharp glare and a blunt piece of wood.

“…”

“…”

The air between us is heating up; I could have sworn sparks were flying. The night sky is still a dull black; the sun has yet to peek over the horizon.

Aiz doesn’t even twitch. Neither do I.

Although in my case, I couldn’t move even if I tried.

Visions of her advance assault me. It’s a near-certainty that once she takes the first step, I’ll meet a strike that far exceeds my own speed and attack range.

The dagger in my sweaty palms has never felt so utterly useless.

“…You’re afraid.”

“?!”

“I think it’s important for a solo adventurer to be afraid. But there is something else that you are afraid of.”

That’s the one thing I didn’t want to hear, from the exact person I didn’t want to hear it from.

With the same look of seriousness on her face, Aiz takes a step forward.

“I don’t know what you are so afraid of…but at this rate, when you face it, you’ll only be able to run away.”

She’s right. Those words cut deep.

Damn it…My insides are burning up. Am I shy? Or indignant? I hope it’s the former.

I’m not sure why, but I feel like she hit the nail right on the head. The ultimate indicator. For a split second, the roar of a certain bovine coming up behind me shoots through my mind.

While I know it’s not real, a twinge of fear floods through me.

What’s this? Now my teeth are shaking? I have to get it together, fast.

Gripping the dagger in my hands as hard as I can, I take a step toward the eyes that bore holes through my soul.

There’s no time to think, so I just put all my strength into my muscles and go! One more step, one more step—I’m taking the offensive.

“YAAAAAAA!!?!”

“That won’t work.”

—My feet leave the ground.

The sound of rending air reaches my ears. Next thing I know, I’m on my side, reeling in pain. The rock floor feels hot, my body flattened atop it.

My ribs…hurt like hell.

“Ah…Ngh?!”

“You must never become reckless. That’s something you should never do, especially in the Dungeon.”

I can tell she’s trying to politely explain, but her words aren’t reaching me.

I’d been mowed down.

I had my dagger too far out in front of me, and she hit my undefended side with her empty sheath so quickly I couldn’t even see it.

Well, I saw a bit of a blur. At least I think it was a blur…

I knew. I should’ve known.

I knew, but…

She is just so…fast.

“Can you stand?”

“……!”

The question is aimed at me from above, and I peel myself slowly but surely off the floor and get back up onto my feet.

I can’t breathe. My side hurts too much. I want to cry so bad, but no. I will not cry here, not now.

I clamp my front teeth down on my lip and turn to face her again.

“You aren’t used to feeling pain…”

“Hnggh—?!”

“But you must not be afraid of it.”

Another strike.

A frontal blow to my midsection at tremendous speed. I can see where the hit happened, but I can see my feet too…I’m flying backward again, aren’t I?

Wham! The back of my head hits the stone floor. No air is going into or coming out of my lungs.

“Can you stand?” There’s no pity in her voice. Somehow I manage to roll my body to the side and get up without choking.

“Being solo in the Dungeon means you can’t leave any opening, ever. Keep your eyes open and sharp.”

“!”

“Better.”

“Hnff?!”

I thought I’d dodged that one, but she changed course.

This time she takes my knee out from under me. Next thing I know, I’m practically kissing the floor, my face burning red.

By the way, I’ve been wearing my light armor this entire time. And still, this pain—!

“Can you stand?” Those cold words again. I can feel blood trickling out of my nose as I once again climb to my feet.

“Just try to follow my attacks for now. Learn to read your opponent.”

“Tch—?!”

“Like that.”

“Buh?!”

An upward swing, and then another side sweep.

But my dagger is always a step behind. Well, it gets to the right place, but her sheath just speeds on by, on its way to nail me again. Pretty sure I spun around in midair at least once that time.

“Can you stand?” Her magic words. I’m up again.

“…You’re not good at blocking, are you?”

“—?!”

Hit hit hit.

An absolute flurry of I don’t know how many flashes. There’s no way out! I can feel small explosions erupting all over my body as her sheath connects over and over again.

Slam! I fall to my knees, the impact echoing around me as the dust clears.

I can’t stand. It’s a miracle I didn’t face-plant on the stone floor again.

I can hear my ragged breathing again, weak and pathetic…

“We top-class adventurers often say that many adventurers are pulled around by their own status.”

“Eh……”

“Everyone depends too much on their blessing. Ability and technique are different things.”

She’s looking down on me. It sounds like a lecture. It’s painful, but I force my eyes open and look back up at her.

She speaks slowly, as she’s trying to give me information she’d learned herself.

“Technique and strategy. You lack both.”

“…!”

“These things will stay with you, even if you lose your status. Such things…are all I can teach you.”

She breaks eye contact with me for a moment, before looking back at me even more intensely than before.

“You have difficulty defending, so we’ll focus on that. The goal of this training is for you to read my attacks, and defend. This way might be painful for you, but it will stay with you, I think. And I think…you will get closer to your goal.”

She says all of this at once, looking straight into my shocked eyes.

Her golden eyes shine with sincerity as they peer into mine.

I try to make some kind of response—or any kind of sound—but nothing comes out. Aiz takes a step back and stands there, as if she’s waiting for me to get up.

“Can you still stand?”

“…Thank you!”

She stared directly at my weakness, and accepted me. I have to say something.

This time spent training with her may be short, but I can’t waste a second of it.

Using every fiber of my being, I force my kneeling body back up onto my feet.

I continue taking blow after blow from her sheath until the sun finally pokes its head out from the far-off eastern skyline.

Up, down, left, right—any direction he looked, his vision was filled by rugged dungeon walls covered in all sizes of rocks.

Despite the extremely high ceiling, the walls always looked like they were closing in. Boulders jutting out of the walls could fall at any moment, their overwhelming presence looming in every direction. Sources of light were scarce and unreliable, making every shadow ominous.

Of course, the footing wasn’t smooth, either. The path here was an uneven gravel trail that made simply walking forward a challenge.

A cave, a mine, a deep shaft.

Many words came to mind while traveling through this level of solid rock with no pattern in its layout whatsoever.

“A long time has passed since I prowled this floor…”

The seventeenth floor of the Dungeon.

Ottar, an animal person of unusual size, continued his solitary quest on the floor, a floor typically used by Level Two adventurers.

Passing under one of the lantern-like luminescent rocks, the man’s impressive frame emerged from the shadows.

He wore only light armor for protection. Despite being able to wear full-body plating, he chose to wear only enough armor to protect his vital points.

On the other hand, each piece of armor he did have was incredibly thick. It looked almost as though he had shields built into his body. Whether or not his equipment could be categorized as “light” armor, even he didn’t know.

He carried an extremely large and durable bag over his shoulder. It was stuffed to its absolute limit, on the verge of bursting.

Then again, I’m not sure how long it’s been since I was in the Dungeon at all.

Ottar’s powerful steps made his body shake as he walked. However, where there should have been a small tremor or two in his wake, the man’s feet didn’t make a sound. An ominous, silencing aura followed his every movement.

His was a presence that could not be ignored, could never go unnoticed.

No monsters appeared before him, almost as if they were getting out of his way in fear.

…Jealous, huh?

His eyes and ears might have been busy scanning every nook and cranny of his surroundings, but Ottar’s mind was on his recent conversation with Freya.

She’d asked him if he felt jealous.

He’d responded with complete honesty at the time. No matter what happened, he would never doubt Freya’s love for him, and would continue to serve and worship her.

The Goddess Freya’s love was like a wind embracing the world.

Even if someone reached out to catch it, they would fail. Her love would envelop them like a soft breeze, but the moment they thought her love was theirs, it would slip through their fingers.

Wind could not be contained. It was no one’s possession. It could not be stopped.

Above all, wind sought no companion.

Wind chose a direction on a whim and drew its own path under the sky. If it should find a traveler on an open plane, it would smile and go to embrace him. But as soon as the traveler turned to face it, the wind had already moved on.

At the same time, the wind was fair.

It brought the good fortune of a cooling breeze to everyone it passed.

Sometimes, it was harsh; other times, gentle. It could flow down from the north, or waft up from the south.

It would always whisper in your ears as it blew by. Wind never stopped. Wind was eternal.

As long as Ottar and the other children were on this earth, no matter where they went, the wind would always reach them.

The fact that I’m here now, is that the answer?

What if the wind had a sky to go home to? A sky that the wind yearned for?

As a person of this world, all he could do was look up at that sky.

If looking up at it from far below triggered a petty emotion from within, then yes, it very well could be envy.

Envy and jealousy were sides of the same coin.

Childish…

A painful smile broke through his hard, emotionless exterior. This would have been very surprising, if anyone had been there to see it.

In truth, he had accepted this the moment he agreed to follow Freya’s command. The wind had blown past him.

Keh! A single laugh filled with self-mockery echoed through the cave.

“…Hmm.”

Ottar stopped walking.

The two boar ears sticking out of his black, thin, almost frame-like helmet twitched in response to something up ahead.

His feet changed direction to the source of the sound. Sure enough, not far from the tip of his boots, the red-black head of a bull emerged from a hole in the wall that had been hidden between two boulders.

“Mmroooo…!”

“There you are.”

The bloodshot eyes of the beast found their new prey: Ottar.

Minotaur. A large-category monster with the body of a muscular man and the head of a bull. This one stood even with Ottar—perhaps even slightly taller. Starting with their height, the two combatants had a lot in common.

This was the reason Ottar had been prowling a level of the Dungeon filled with monsters far below his own level.

He was here to catch one of these violent beasts.

“Mmmmmrrrrrgh…!”

The Minotaur was getting excited.

A landform was in its grasp. This natural weapon found within the Dungeon itself was shaped like a stone ax.

The edge of the weapon was covered in a crimson liquid. Either it had just finished off an adventurer, or it had covered the ax with its own blood. Ottar couldn’t see any damage on the beast itself.

This is the one, Ottar thought as his rusty eyes narrowed.

Reaching for his belt, Ottar let the bag over his shoulder fall to the floor with a loud thud. Along with the sound of the ground cracking on impact, metallic jangling sounds also echoed.

The sound of the crash was as good as a starting whistle for the Minotaur. It squinted its eyes as it charged headlong at Ottar.

“Mrroooooooooah!!”

The beast’s strides hit the ground with such force that fragments of broken rocks flew backward in its wake. The Minotaur held the ax high over its head with one hand as it closed the distance.

Faced with a charging Minotaur roaring loud enough to make the walls shake, Ottar didn’t bat an eye.

Holding his pack upright with his right hand, Ottar let his left arm hang loosely. He waited, unarmed, for the imminent arrival of the Minotaur.

The instant that the Minotaur planted its foot—hard enough to leave a small crater—in front of Ottar to strike, the massive man calmly raised his left arm.

“Mrooooh…Mroa?!”

“…Well done. You’ve been chosen.”

Ottar blocked the stone ax completely.

In fact, it was the ax that took damage. The blade cracked, bits and pieces falling to the floor.

The Minotaur had put all of its weight into that attack, only to be blocked by Ottar’s armor-lined arm.

While the armor itself had to be considered, this level of Defense was otherworldly. Ottar stood flat-footed on impact, but his massive body didn’t budge. Without taking a defensive stance, he had taken the Minotaur’s attack head-on.

Ottar looked like he was a gigantic tree, rooted to the spot, as he delivered his appraisal of the Minotaur.

It might have been instinct, but the Minotaur took one, then two steps backward, its eyes shaking in fear.

It had learned a little too late that the creature in front of it was even more of a monster than it was.

“Groh… ?!”

“You are welcome to try again. If not…”

Ottar’s penetrating gaze made the Minotaur freeze in terror.

Ottar watched as the stone ax fell from the Minotaur’s limp fingers, and got an idea.

He reached behind his waist. Keeping his eyes locked on the Minotaur, Ottar grabbed one of the twin swords strapped to his belt—a greatsword, really—pulled it out, and tossed it in the Minotaur’s direction.

“…Uwwa?”

“You demonstrated good technique. Now use this.”

With an eerie charm that would’ve unnerved anybody watching, the Minotaur cocked its head in confusion at the hilt that was thrust at it.

Its eyes jumped nervously between Ottar and the sword over and over again, before it timidly reached out and took hold of the hilt.

The Minotaur’s fingers carefully wrapped around the handle, and then it took a firm grasp.

On my life, Mistress Freya, I will not hold back.

Freya had said it herself: She’d left the boy Bell’s growth in Ottar’s hands.

As he had replied in that conversation, there was only one way for him to grow. Freya gave him the order, knowing full well what could happen.

This Minotaur would fight Bell.

The path Ottar was preparing for Bell was a cruel one, full of thorns.

…These might be more than mere preparations.

Up until this point, Ottar had encountered many Minotaurs, but felt them unworthy.

And all to remove the last chain within the boy’s soul. To bring out the “glow” that Freya desired.

For Level One adventurers, defeating a Level Two monster like the Minotaur was next to impossible. Due to the difference in pure strength and ability, a Level One adventurer would have to have a death wish to even challenge one of them. Despite this, Ottar had given his chosen Minotaur a weapon.

Ottar’s “guidance” was so severe, it bordered on tyranny.

Ottar had to admit a faintly absurd emotion had taken root in his heart. He had been forced to think about a boy named Bell.

Was he, perhaps, trying to erase the boy from Freya’s sight?

Ottar asked himself that question, and answered with a resounding no.

Should the boy die, there was no doubt that Freya would pursue his soul. She would be willing to go all the way to the heavens to hold him in her embrace. If she weren’t, she would never allow Ottar to put him into such a dangerous situation.

At this point, it didn’t matter if Bell lived or died. No matter what happened, the goddess of love would be waiting for him.

This was not jealousy.

This was a trial.