January 9th, 2022
***
Richter woke up early like usual; the events of yesterday playing in his mind. The world had been upended in an instant. But everyone around him acted like it was no big deal. Just a new way to have fun and find fulfillment in the day-to-day. Where did their confident self-assurance come from?
He slid out of bed, took a hot shower, and grabbed breakfast before heading back to Mayor Wesley. The early sun was swallowed by clouds, casting shadows on the blowing street signs and rickety stands. He felt goosebumps up and down his body. He spread his sense out, only to find nothing out of place. He pushed onward and arrived at the building once more.
The secretary didn't come in this early, since the place wouldn't open for a couple more hours. Richter used a spare key given to him for the front door; he locked it behind him and approached Wesley's office.
Upon entering, he noticed a musty smell. The walls were slightly saturated with water, fading their colors. Some of the paint was bubbled and chipped along the top, revealing the ugly yellow color underneath. Wesley was sitting at his desk, looking annoyed.
"Everything alright?"
Richter took a seat on the wet sofa while Wesley sighed.
"Yeah, just a mishap with a water-type skill. Guess I shouldn't have tried it indoors."
Richter looked around the room, "Must of been quite the skill to cover so much."
Upon further inspection, the saturation wasn't slight by any means. The rugs were squishy; the drawers of the desk were leaking, and standing water sat in a corner where the floor sloped.
"I guess. Anyway, I might have a job for you in a couple days. Currently, I can't contact one of the neighboring prefectures. I'm hoping it's just a coincidence and resolves itself-"
"Hmph," Richter interrupted.
"-But I am not very optimistic about it."
"Prefecture's a lot of ground to cover for one person. Which one is it?"
"Kagawa." Wesley took out a cigarette and lit it. "You wouldn't be the only one I send."
Richter's lip twitched. That sinking feeling returned. "How are we supposed to get there in the event their infrastructure is toast?"
"Well... that's where you come in. There is a trail through the countryside, across a forest. Just stick to the trail and there's nothing to it." Wesley took a puff of smoke before continuing.
"Unfortunately, the random nature of dungeons isn't limited to places with people in them. Dungeons have been reported all throughout the area, with varying monsters appearing..."
He smiled brightly. "But with your senses, you'd be the perfect guide to lead them through."
"Hmm..." Richter leaned back, his shirt absorbing some of the water.
"How many Richters are they worth?"
"Combined, I say about one and a half."
Richter's eyes widened. "Really? That's impressive. How many people?"
"Just four. They really aren't bad, at least in my eyes."
"We'll see. If things don't get better then I'll help."
The two said their goodbyes and Richter left. With time to spare, he had a few things on his mind. His first stop was the weapon stand from yesterday. He had never seen any items drop in dungeons.
The streets were less busy this time of day. Thankfully, the short man could be seen manning the stand. His companion was mysteriously absent. Richter walked up to the vendor, who looked strangely excited at his arrival.
The weapons for sale consisted of three swords, one staff, and three shields. They didn't look special, but Richter recognized one of the swords from the shop. He looked up at the short man.
"Are all of these from the shop?" he asked bluntly.
"Perhaps." he stroked his beard. "Something caught your fancy? If you agree to fight and help market their value, I'll give you one for free."
Richter felt he knew the answer. He quietly opened the store page out of view and compared the prices they offered. He couldn't see the staff and shields, but all of the swords were halved. How could they afford to sell them like that? He closed the store and asked the man.
"I'll tell you if we fight." He was insistent on dueling Richter. Seems he'd let his sword do the talking.
"Fine. Let's get this over with." Richter drew his sword.
The two would duel right in front of his stand. The short man began to bellow, drawing every pair of eyes he could to their fight. Richter could sense the large number of people crowding around them. Some started placing bets; apparently, the short man had a reputation already.
"You want a handicap?" he joked.
But Richter didn't find it funny.
"Just start already."
The short man shuffled forward, armed with a sword and shield. Richter's senses went on high alert as a streak of metal registered toward his side. He flicked his blade up, deflecting the blow, and sent a kick to his shins.
The short man took the blow and grit his teeth, pain shooting through his left leg. His stance faltered but it was worth the opportunity. He twisted his torso and trucked his shield at his opponent. He could feel it connect, but his instincts screamed at him. Richter timed his movement, minimizing the damage and using its momentum to slide back.
He felt up and down his left forearm; the throbbing sensation sparking his bloodlust. The short man paled at the shift in the atmosphere. His heart beat wildly in his chest. His mind yelled that his life was at risk, he felt like he'd die. The crowd sensed the shift too. Several individuals drew their weapons, ready to jump in if things took a turn for the worse. But to Richter, none of this mattered.
He got lost in the joy of battle. Something Swordsmanship used to provide him before its decline. He took a step forward, his imposing aura radiating. His demented grin made the man's mana boil.
He didn't care if it was a waste anymore.
The man yelled and ran full speed. Richter's endorphins were rushing as he scanned every detail of his opponent. Time slowed to a crawl. The desperate slash of the man's blade formed a trajectory in his mind. He pre-moved the attack in real-time.
The man cursed mentally, feeling helpless. He had to go for it now. So he flooded his arm with mana.
A new warning signal roused Richter from his battle-crazed state. The speed of the blade nearly doubled. He saw faint blue wisps escaping from the man's hand, he couldn't avoid the attack anymore. Richter bent backward, the sword drawing a line across his chest. A surface-level wound cut through his shirt and drew blood, but he had won. Immediately, he slammed the pommel into the man's throat, who collapsed gasping for air.
It was a ton of fun for Richter, more than he realized. He'd never fought an opponent who wielded a shield before. This only increased his excitement for future combat.
He steadied his breathing and looked over at the injured vendor. He had answered one of Richter's questions about mana usage; which was something he planned to mess with after visiting the vendor. The crowd slowly dissipated now that the action had come to a resolution. Meanwhile, his companion, who had arrived late and couldn't see what happened, ran forward to his friend.
Richter had a mischievous look in his eye.
"Thanks for the hint. I didn't realize mana could be used like that." He laughed and walked back toward Pleasure Inn, apparently forgetting his question from earlier.
***
"Are you alright?"
"That guy is a dickhead." He growled. His hands caressed the dent in his throat.
The scrawny man smiled, seems his friend was just fine.
They stood up and took their spots behind the stand.
"So, how was the fight? I couldn't see it."
"I was severely outclassed without mana, and even with mana I only inflicted a minor wound." he grimaced.
"How did it feel to fight him?"
"The first twenty seconds weren't so bad, but after that, I felt like I was gonna die."
"Some kind of mental ability?"
"Maybe. regardless, I don't plan on involving myself with him anymore."
They changed subjects.
"You still prepping for the job in a couple days?"
"I bought the last of our provisions while you were fighting. Long as we don't get lost it won't be an issue."
"Sweet. I'm still curious about the other people joining us, Wesley sounded pretty proud of them."
"To me, he sounded desperate. We might have to carry the team again. "
"I don't mind." he smiled. "We will try our best like usual, and if a few members happen to bite off more than they can chew...."
The short man - Reed - directed his gaze at the weapons on the table.
"Then we'll have even more items up for sale."
If one looked closely, they would be able to see small faded splatters of blood across the items. A few drops on a handle, a splotch on the strap of a shield, and a discolored top for the staff. They hadn't done anything wrong, had they? When a rambunctious youngling rushed forward, breaking formation, and got decapitated; it only made sense for someone to take their items.
The dead wouldn't have any use for them. And the free cost of acquisition made their profit margins incredible.
And so the two men resumed business as usual. With the scrawny man - Koga - standing off to the side, listless. And Reed shouting out advertisements, trying to pawn off the former possessions of their dead teammates.
Three Swordsman, three Guardians, and one Mage. All who met their untimely end inside a dungeon.
***