Chapter 73, Specialized Adventurers

Translator: Barnnn

 

“Oi, Ize! I heard the rumors! You finally made your cross-dressing debut? Decided to give up on being a man since you’re such a runt? Gahahahaha!”

“AHHHHHH! Shut up, Poe! Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

 

The marketplace, usually a peaceful stretch lined with grocery stalls, erupted with the deep, booming laughter of a grown man and the high-pitched outrage of a teenager.

 

“Aaand there she goes — resorting to flying kicks again.”

“That’s really an adult woman, huh? What kind of world was she even from?”

“…C’mon, our world isn’t THAT weird. Maybe there are lots of girls like her nowadays? I dunno…” Hal muttered. “I mean, I was in my early thirties before coming here, so…”

“That so? I couldn’t tell at all — because, y’know, you act an awful lot like Ize sometimes. Must be an Earth thing.”

“D-dude, that’s uncalled for…”

 

Hal averted his gaze, his eyes darting like a cornered animal.

A few steps ahead, Ize was locked in a lively conversation with four older adventurers and the fishmonger lady — though “conversation” might not be the right word, considering she was currently being hurled into the air like a sack of grain, courtesy of Poe.

 

[The hell kind of strength do these two have?]

 

Fieda, wisely ignoring the chaos between Ize and Poe, turned to the remaining adventurers.

 

“So, how’d the gathering go this time?”

“Not bad. We hit the jackpot on the fifty-first floor,” replied Ivern, the group’s leader. “Oh, and we picked up Ize’s request while we were at it. We’ll hand the goods over later.”

“Appreciate it. We dropped off our haul at Origin of Thievery, so Joe’s probably already working on processing it.”

“Oh, that’s a big help. We were starting to worry about Ryzant’s armor getting too banged up. Might’ve had to postpone our next run otherwise.”

 

Ivern gestured toward one of his teammates. His group had four members, including himself: Poe, still busy roughhousing with Ize; Zew, currently inspecting their delivered goods with the fishmonger; and Ryzant, the aforementioned fighter.

Like Ize, Ryzant was a speedster, always on his feet and deadly with dual blades. Fieda had helped him gather materials for his armor, ensuring they made it to Origin of Thievery — the one shop Ize swore by.

 

“Seriously, though, Hal… was your homeland THAT desperate for food? First it was Velveteel, now it’s Pop Urchins…”

“No, you’ve got it wrong — both are delicacies where we’re from! We rarely got to eat them. That’s why we’re really grateful to you all.”

“That so? Well, the Pop Urchin’s spines can be used for crafting, so make sure to sell them to the guild after you scoop out the insides.”

“Got it. Should I hand over the proceeds to you?”

“You’re still the same, huh, kid? We’re selling whole urchins here — whatever you make from this, it’s yours.”

 

Ivern clapped Hal on the back — hard. Hal staggered forward, coughing from the sheer force.

Meanwhile, Fieda took the crate of Pop Urchins from Zew, who spoke up after a moment’s hesitation,

 

“…You’re really gonna eat these?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“…Need an Antidote Potion?”

“I’ve got one ready.”

“…If you say so.”

 

The hushed exchange pricked at Hal’s heart.

 

[They’re delicious, I swear…]

 

As he muttered to himself, he noticed Ize and Poe had gone suspiciously quiet, both peering at the crate.

 

“You ever see these things hanging off trees?” Poe asked. “Freaky as hell. Chestnut Bombers are kinda similar, but at least those are brown — and harmless if you leave ’em alone.”

“Yeah, dark-colored things up in trees are creepy. Same with spiders. Why do they always look so gross?”

“And when these little bastards start falling — like ten at a time — it’s a nightmare. They screech when they drop, too. Louder than some runt around here, even…”

“They screech? Like monkeys? Poe, are you sure you’re not one of them?”

“Shut up!”

 

Their conversation kept veering off course — almost as if they were talking about different things without realizing it — but neither seemed to mind.

Hal took a peek into the crate they were gawking at. Inside, a heap of jet-black sea urchin-like creatures gleamed menacingly.

 

“Damn, that’s a solid haul.”

“Yeah, that part, at least, I respect, Poe,” Ize deadpanned.

“You should respect more than that. Like these muscles, for instance!”

 

Poe turned his back to them, rolling his shoulders before flexing his broad frame.

His revered Sage had earned the title of “Body Architect” — a man, according to Poe, so devoted to bodybuilding he was practically a walking slab of muscle.

 

[…I mean, Body Architect? Seriously?]

 

Ize and Hal exchanged glances, clearly thinking the same thing. Now, both of them were staring at Poe’s back with identical, unimpressed expressions.

 

“Poe, you’re a total meathead.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“It means your brain’s made of muscle. Perfect for someone who loves flexing as much as you do.”

“Oh-ho! So you finally acknowledge my manly physique! Yes, indeed, I am a meathead!”

“Hahaha, Poe the meathead! That’s got a nice ring to it!”

 

Watching them banter — with Poe blissfully unaware of what the word actually meant — Hal instinctively took two steps back.

Ize, grinning at Hal, turned away from Poe and addressed Ivern instead.

 

“By the way, we’re planning to grab some Kiwi Shooters and Banana Buns next time. Do you need anything else?”

“Ize, you said it wrong again. It’s Bannanan Bun,” Ivern corrected. “If you can, grab some of the leaves too — ten, maybe twenty.”

“Babanan Nanbun leaves? Got it. That all?”

“Bannanan Bun. Oh, yeah… do you think you’ll reach the forty-ninth floor anytime soon? There’s been a request for Sugar Mandragoras.”

“Sugar Mandragoras, huh? I’ll let Fieda know. Oh, and what are the Babanan Nanbun leaves for?”

“Bannanan Bun! I swear, you’re doing this on purpose…” Ivern exhaled through his nose. “The general store lady uses them for pickling. I can’t pay much for them, though…”

“Don’t worry about it. We owe you guys plenty already.”

 

Fieda, having overheard, clamped a hand down on Ize’s head, nodding to Ivern as he squeezed firmly.

Under his massive palm, Ize swayed like she was about to break into a dance, chanting, “Babanan, nan, bun, bun. Bananan, nan, bun, bun,” in a sing-song rhythm.

The fact that she even knew that old tune was surprising enough — but what was really impressive was how utterly unfazed she was by the iron claw grip on her skull.

Watching her, Hal couldn’t help but be a little impressed.

 

◆

 

Ivern and his team were adventurers who specialized in catching seafood. Ize and Hal had first met them through an introduction from the fishmonger lady, but their partnership truly began when Ivern’s group took an interest in their request to capture a Velveteel. Rather than going through the Guild like normal, they had marched straight into the inn where the two were staying, eager to hammer out the details in person.

Since they had come all that way, Etta had been asked to prepare a feast — boar hot pot, braised pork, simmered sea bream, and salmon cooked in miso. Ivern and his crew had been so taken with the cooking techniques and seasonings that they started dropping by regularly, always asking if there were any new ingredients they could try.

And so, an arrangement had been born: Ize’s party took charge of gathering plant-based ingredients, while Ivern’s group handled seafood, each fulfilling the other’s requests whenever possible.

Ivern’s party also held a special license from the Adventurers’ Guild, granting them limited permission for private trade — an uncommon privilege that allowed them to bypass Guild-mediated transactions under certain conditions.

As for how they managed to bring back whole fish from the Dungeon without them turning into loot — a method that was typically kept under wraps — Ize and Hal had more or less figured it out on their own.

 

“It was Bambush that gave it away,” Ize remarked.

“We have Joe to thank for that,” Hal added.

“Yeah, well, gratitude aside, he works us like machines. Hard to feel too warm toward him.”

“Don’t be like that. He’s done us plenty of favors.”

 

They chatted idly about Joe, the owner of Origin of Thievery, as they walked back to the inn from the fishmonger’s shop.

They had uncovered the trick while working on a request from Joe. Using Ize’s Perception to pinpoint Bambush, they had to catch the moment the plant shot up from the ground and swiftly shove it into a Magic Bag. This method was surprisingly effective for harvesting Mystic Plants — halting their growth and preventing them from lashing out.

By that logic, the method for retrieving whole fish was obvious. The key was the brief window after a Mystic Beast was slain but before it transformed into loot. If they could snatch it up and shove it into a Magic Bag in that instant, they could bypass the Dungeon’s usual mechanics entirely.

 

“I always thought Magic Bags couldn’t store living things,” Ize said. “But this is a pretty clever loophole.”

“Yeah, who even thought to shove something inside mid-fade in the first place?” Hal wondered aloud.

“Probably some poor guy in the middle of a fight who didn’t have time to wait around,” Fieda suggested.

“Oh, that does sound likely.”

“In any case, we should be grateful for the eel and urchins.”

“…You’re seriously planning to eat those?”

“Well, I’ll just say they’re not for everyone,” Hal teased. “Even in Japan, people either love or hate them. Just try a bite. If you can’t handle it, don’t force yourself. But I guarantee they go great with liquor.”

 

He proceeded to shoot Fieda a lopsided grin, prompting the latter to steel himself and exhale sharply.

 

“Well, the eel did turn out to be good despite how it looked… All right, since you insist, I’ll give it a chance.”

 

Hal’s credibility with Fieda, as it turned out, was oddly high.

Ize glanced up at him, catching the fond look in his eyes as he watched Fieda.

 

[Oh, no… the intrusive thoughts…] she muttered to herself. [Ugh, I mean… does this conversation really need to cater to THAT kind of demographic? Surely it doesn’t…]

 

◆

 

According to Ivern, securing permission to bring whole Mystic Beasts out of the Dungeon required two things: a B-rank adventurer’s certification and a Magic Bag.

On top of that, the Guild only granted approval to adventurers they trusted — those who wouldn’t exploit the privilege and knowledge, and who could consistently deliver quality ingredients. It also required at least one party member who could fight up close and react in the crucial few seconds before a monster faded into loot.

Jasted, a city boasting a Rank 2 Dungeon and a bustling adventurer population, had only four parties that met those conditions. Ivern’s was one of them.

At first, Ize had assumed they were just middle-aged, mid-tier adventurers, but it turned out they were surprisingly well-regarded within the Guild.

 

“They don’t look like such high-ranking adventurers,” Hal muttered. “That’s a talent in itself.”

“It’s because of you, Ize,” Fieda added.

“Huh? What do I have to do with it?”

“…What did Ivern request today?”

“Sugar Mandragoras and at least ten Bannanan Bun leaves.”

“There. That’s why.”

“…?”

“Pffft — hahaha! Ize, you finally said Bannanan Bun right!”

“Ah! I let my guard down!”

“Wait, do you actually have to focus to say it wrong? What’s the point of that!?”

 

Hal doubled over in laughter, loud and utterly unrestrained. Flustered, Ize jabbed him in the ribs.

 

“Oof– wha–” Strange, undignified noises spilled from Hal’s mouth, somewhere between a squeak and a yelp.

 

That set Ize off, her laughter high and bright.

Fieda, smirking at their antics, suddenly decided to join in — and jabbed Hal as well.

Unlike Ize, though, Fieda didn’t hold back, nor did he know how to.

Later, when Hal discovered his rib area covered in round, bruised marks, Fieda was swiftly sentenced to a one-week penalty: forfeiting his share of breakfast bacon to Hal.