Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Vol. 5 (9 page)

The sun was setting in the west, tinting the sky with red light.

It was around this hour that adventurers called it a day and came out of the Dungeon. Like many of the other bars in the area, the staff of The Benevolent Mistress was hard at work preparing for that evening’s customers.

Cat people and humans were dashing all around the establishment, cleaning and organizing everything behind a wooden door with the C
LOSED
sign hanging out front. Some of them were carrying round tables and chairs; others were out buying ingredients to stock the kitchen. It was a battlefield in its own right.

A certain elf’s long, pointy ears were illuminated by red light coming in from the window as she ran a cloth across the surface of the bar counter.

Lyu’s ears jumped when she heard a light jingle behind her. Someone had just opened the front door.

“Sorry, I’m coming in.”

A lean deity entered the bar.

The reddish light from outside mixed with his orange hair and created a rusty glow around him in the early evening hours.

Hermes grinned from ear to ear as he walked into the building, Asfi in tow.

“I’m so sorry, Lord Hermes. We’re not open yet. Can you come back in a little while?”

“Sorry for getting in the way, Runoa. I’ll make this quick.”

Hermes walked right past the human girl Runoa’s objections and right to his intended target.

The other waitresses stopped what they were doing and followed him.

Hermes finally came to a stop in the middle of the bar, directly in front of Lyu.

“…You want to talk to me?”

“Very much so. I need a favor, Lyu.”

Asfi came to a halt at his side as Hermes opened his eyes wider than usual.

“There’s a quest I’d like you to accept—I need ‘Lyon of the Gale Wind.’”

That had been Lyu’s alias during her time as an adventurer. It had a savage reputation.

The tension in the bar instantly rose.

The deity and his follower were instantly surrounded by an ominous hiss. The catgirls Ahnya and Chloe, as well as Runoa and the other waitresses, were glaring daggers at them.

There was no escape. Asfi’s palms were instantly sweaty from the terrible pressure of all the eyes pointed in their direction. The entire staff of The Benevolent Mistress now saw them as enemies who needed to be eliminated.

The red glow from the windows intensified their perilous atmosphere.

“Are you threatening me?”

Lyu’s thin eyebrows curved downward as her eyes bored into the god standing in front of her.

Very few people knew her history, and threatening to make it public served as very good blackmail. She had to know.

Hermes raised both of his hands saying, “No, no, that was not my intention,” at the elf as she came right up to his face.

“There’s a boy…Bell Cranell, who needs saving.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Hermes explained Bell’s situation, and that he wanted her to join the search party.

Lyu’s light-blue eyes softened for a moment as she listened, but then suddenly sharpened again.

“Why did you come to me?”

“We’re taking some ‘baggage’ that needs to be protected and we
can’t count on other gods to provide it. So, I need someone strong but not bound by the rules of a
Familia
. You were the only one I could think of…And then…”

Hermes broke off eye contact with her and looked toward the corner of the room.

“You’re a friend of Syr’s, right?”

A silver-haired girl stood, dumbstruck, in the doorway leading to the kitchen behind the bar.

She’d arrived just in time to hear what was going on with Bell. Lyu’s expression contorted when she saw the look on her friend’s face.

The ends of Hermes’s lips curved upward. He knew that that last line was far more convincing than anything else thus far. He’d won.

“We leave at eight. Join us; we’re waiting for you.”

Hermes leaned down to her ear and whispered those words just before leaving.

The god turned around and walked toward the door, escorted by a series of murderous glares as he made his way out of the bar with Asfi close behind.

“Lyu.”

“Syr…”

Lyu watched Hermes go, an expression of pure loathing on her face. She only looked away when her friend came up to her side. Syr looked physically ill as she made eye contact with the elf.

A moment of silence passed.

“I’m sorry, Lyu. Save him. Save Bell.”

Lyu gazed deep into the silver pools of Syr’s eyes.

Lyu could clearly see the fear of losing someone special, as well as a great deal of helplessness. She was particularly sensitive to human emotions. Syr was shivering, practically begging her to go. Lyu forced a smile.

“I am in your debt, Syr. I cannot refuse your request. Nor do I,” Lyu continued, “wish for the death of Bell Cranell.”

Her voice was clear and steady.

Syr bowed over and over, apologizing many times and, at last, offered her heartfelt thanks.

The other waitresses who had watched everything unfold gathered around Lyu. Ahnya and the others gave their own words of support.

“Leave the bar to us, meow! We’ll tell Mama that Lyu had a tummyache and can’t work, meow!”

“It’s irritating that Lord Hermes can push us around like this…but it can’t be helped.”

“Mya-ha-ha, Lyu! Save him tonight and he’ll owe you forever, meow!”

The airheaded catgirl Ahnya, the smiling Runoa, the scheming Chloe, and all of the other staff members said their piece in turn.

Even the cooks poked their heads out of the kitchen to offer words of encouragement.

Lyu looked at each of them, overwhelmed by their support. Lastly, she smiled and weakly nodded at Syr. Her voice quivered as she said:

“My apologies. Please cover for me.”

Lyu sped toward the door, untying the ribbon on her uniform along the way.

Sweat keeps rolling down my face and off my chin.

I think part of it has to do with the stuffy air down here in the middle levels. Of course, I have no idea if I’ll get out of this alive, but this humidity is killing me.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any choice but to fight my way through it as we press forward.

I’m still lending my shoulder to Welf. Physically, my eyes and ears are on high alert. But mentally, I’m praying my heart out—almost pitifully so—that no monsters show up. Lilly’s walking just a few steps back, making sure nothing comes up from behind.

We’ve covered a lot of distance since deciding to go to level eighteen. Unfortunately, we haven’t found a single one of the holes leading down.

I do my best to keep calm and stave off the rumblings of my hungry stomach.

We’re alone in this dark tunnel—the one thing that we can’t do is
start panicking. All of us are on edge, but the moment we give in to the fear will be the beginning of the end for us.

We come to a fork in the tunnel, one path leading left and one path right. At the end of our meeting I told everyone that we should go right whenever we have to make a decision. Just as we agreed, we all go right.

Haa…haa
…Lilly’s small breaths sound painful behind me. I bet she’s really tired. Welf’s body is pressed right up against mine. It’s really hot. But we can’t slow down, no matter how much pain we’re in.

“…Li’l E, can’t you do something about that smell?”

Welf tilts his head and looks at Lilly out of the corner of his eye.

I take a look over my opposite shoulder. Lilly’s eyes glaze over at Welf’s question—maybe she’s lost the will to argue.

“Please put up with it…Lilly’s just saying, but the smell is much worse back here.”

The “smell” they’re talking about is coming from a pouch hanging from Lilly’s neck.

It’s so putrid that I want to rip my nose off my face. It’s amazing I can hold back the tears welling up behind my eyes.

“This stink bothers us, but it’s like breathing poison to monsters. As long as nothing drastic happens, the smell will protect us for as long as it lasts.”

Just as Lilly explained, this stink pouch called a “malboro” is the main reason why we haven’t encountered any monsters for a while.

The thing really works; I’m seeing the effects with my own eyes.

No matter how powerful the monsters in the middle levels are, none of them wants anything to do with this stench.

“You got that from Nahza, if I remember right…”

“Yes, Lilly asked for her help while we were still working in the upper levels…”

Lilly had tried many times to make an item that would repel monsters but failed. So she asked for Nahza’s assistance.

Nahza is very familiar with ingredients found outside of Orario. While mixing them with items from the Dungeon, she accidentally created it. Or so I heard.

“By the way, Nahza fell to the floor and rolled around after taking a test sniff.”

…Apparently the smell was so bad that poor Nahza was rubbing her nose against everything, desperately trying to get the smell out. I feel sorry for her, just thinking about it—actually seeing it would have been excruciating.

At any rate, the pouch on Lilly’s neck has allowed us to avoid any monster encounters. Considering our limited supplies and physical condition, I’m happy to put up with the stench.

Sure, we heard a few howls coming from farther down the tunnel a few times, but they got out of the way as soon as they were close enough to smell us.

“…!”

Ahead of us.

The lights of several glowing red eyes pierce the darkness directly in our path.

The monsters—hellhounds—have us in their sights. I can see three of them, their eyes pulsing with anticipation.

They come to a stop just out of range of the smell, about thirty meders away. I can see them thrashing their heads about, slamming their feet into the ground. They’re getting ready to launch their fire attack.

Shit!
I brace myself.

If we take the full brunt of their fireballs like this, we’re done for. I hear Lilly’s body stiffen behind me.

Risk further injury with a head-on attack? Or hit them with the Firebolt first?

Thirty meders…Can I make it up there in time? Can the hellhounds hit us at full power at this range? I don’t know what to do! Suddenly—

“Looks like I gotta try…I got this.”

Welf’s voice came into my ears.

Huh?
His right arm shoots forward the moment I look at him in confusion.

The red fabric on the sleeve of his jacket makes a loud “snap” as he
extends the palm of his hand toward the hellhounds crouching in the distance.

He utters a short incantation: “
Blasphemous Burn.
”

The air in front of Welf’s hand instantly ripples, shock waves visible as they boom forward.

A raging torrent of flame—yet somehow silent—rushes to engulf the hellhounds that were mere seconds away from launching their own attack.

“Will-o’-the-Wisp.”

Three explosions in the blink of an eye—as the hellhounds’ own fire consumes them.

“Ignis Fatuus?!”

Lilly’s shocked voice echoes through the tunnel.

I, too, saw the flames the monsters were about to spit at us—and the sudden explosion that followed. I’m just as wide-eyed as she is. The smoke starts to clear. All of the hellhounds are on the ground, their eyes blank.

Ignis Fatuus.

A name for an explosion that results from the inability to control your own magic.

In the Old Age before the gods came to Earth, elves and other magic users created their own spells and tried their own hands at casting Magic.

However, their bodies were at risk until their magic took physical form. It could literally blow up in their faces if they tried to force it out—something very similar to what just happened to those hellhounds.

Thanks to the gods and their Falna, people have a better chance of finding Magic that suits their ability, as well as control it, today than they did in those days. Ignis Fatuus almost never happens anymore.

The possibility of that happening to a monster is next to nothing.

“How about that, it worked…”

“W-Welf, what just happened?”

“My Magic is kind of specialized. From what I’ve seen, it reacts to magic power and makes it explode.”

Will-o’-the-Wisp—anti-magic Magic.

When timed correctly, it can be used against Magic or elemental attacks that use magical power as a counterattack by triggering an Ignis Fatuus. The stronger the magic attack or higher the user’s Magic power, the larger the explosion. It could, in a sense, seal Magic power.

As a smith who fights with weapons in close-quarters combat, this type of Magic is a perfect fit for Welf. I can see why he would want it.

“Hadn’t tried it on a monster before, but…Worked by the skin of my teeth.”

He looks at the surprise on my face and flashes a pained smile.

Apparently he wasn’t kidding when he said this was his first time using it on a monster. There aren’t any monsters on the upper levels that can breathe fire like the hellhounds. Heck, there aren’t any monsters up there that can do anything close to Magic.

Then on the thirteenth floor, when we were about to get roasted, he wouldn’t have known the timing for his own Magic. Better late than never.