Chapter 1: Coping With Community Service

“It’s not happening. I’m not strong enough.”

My voice was laced with pain as I spoke to my friends, the Grieving Souls.

Only one year had passed since we’d started acting as hunters. But in just that one year, there had been so much upheaval in my life.

Treasure vaults were collections of mana material. The dangers within were numerous: phantoms and evil monsters, traps waiting to ensnare you, and even your own fellow treasure hunters. We’d heard about it all. I had read countless tales of past adventures, so I had thought I knew everything there was to know.

However, the trials that had presented themselves when we truly became hunters had broken my naïve, fragile spirit. I couldn’t begin to count the amount of times I’d nearly vomited. The life-threatening adventures had taken an immense toll on my body and mind.

“I can’t keep up with you guys. You ought to know this by now, but I always, always slow our raids down.”

In treasure hunter parties, each member was assigned a role. There were offensive roles that fought off monsters, like Swordsmen and Magi. There were supporting roles that dealt with scouting and traps, like Thieves and Alchemists. Additionally, there were healing roles that helped protect party members and heal their wounds, like Paladins and Clerics. As I had none of those abilities, I was nothing but a burden.

I had tried so hard, visiting one mentor after another, groping desperately for some aptitude within me. But it had become clear to me that if someone without talent put in the same effort as someone with talent, the latter would always come out on top.

Luke and the rest of my childhood friends were surprisingly hard workers. Anyone would be surprised by their grit. As long as there were only twenty-four hours in a day, I would never catch up to them.

Parties typically consisted of five or six people. Without me, or if I was replaced by one or two others of appropriate level, Luke and the others would have been able to go even further.

When he heard my pleading, Luke Sykol nodded gravely. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re not strong enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Liz Smart, who was sitting next to him, piped up, “Sorry, Krai Baby. If we were stronger, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“No, seriously, that’s not what I mean.”

They were already strong. Too strong, even. Though they carried around a burden by the name of Krai Andrey, they were strong enough to challenge vaults at increasingly higher levels. It should’ve been so much easier for them to raid without me, as a group of five.

My pleading fell on deaf ears as Luke looked into the distance and said, “This isn’t gonna work. Haha... If we’re gonna be stuck here, then being the best is only a dream within a dream. Thanks for opening my eyes, Krai. I’m gonna go train under that Sword Saint or whatever, and rebuild my skills from the ground up.”

As if he were merely going on a stroll, Luke waltzed off to become an apprentice to the famous Sword Saint of the imperial capital. Following his example, the other members of our party also decided to venture out and improve their skills.

I realized one thing: I could never get through to them. They thought that just getting stronger would solve any problem. But no matter how strong they were, I would remain weak.

Thus, I searched desperately for any way to avoid adventuring. Eventually, I hit upon a brilliant idea.

Let’s start a clan.

As I was, I was just going to die. And if I didn’t die, I might meet a fate worse than death. To avoid either one, I determined we would start a clan with other hopeful parties in service of finding new, strong hunters to join Grieving Souls.

We needed a new wind for that first new step.

I created First Steps and successfully used my management duties as a pretext to get away from searching treasure vaults. That was three years ago.

I’ve mentioned mana material a couple of times now. While I didn’t know everything about it, it was one of the elements that composed our world. It couldn’t be seen, but it was apparently all over the place, like an invisible fog.

Because this element pervaded the entire world, it could gather at fixed points, depending on the influence of ley lines and the land itself. When it did, this invisible power reflected the area’s history in order to create an extremely limited pocket dimension. This was what we called a treasure vault.

Ever since ancient times, where there were treasure vaults, there were treasure hunters.

Vaults came in various forms, as information absorbed by the mana material could include anything from ruined civilizations to rare, natural phenomena. Though the treasure vaults were based on set rules, they had nearly infinite variety. They could take the shape of towers, castles, forests, deserts, underground labyrinths, and in strange cases, even ships, the sky, or waterfalls.

The reason treasure hunters traversed these structures—and why they were called treasure vaults to begin with—was because of the Relics within, which were created during the inception of these pocket dimensions. Relics had myriad forms, such as a canteen that never ran out of water, a ring that could protect its bearer from a fatal blow, or an overcoat that allowed the wearer to fly.

From time to time, items appeared with powers so outlandish that modern civilization could never hope to replicate them.

Were they human dreams given form, or perhaps artifacts from ancient civilizations that had been lost to time? Depending on its powers, a Relic could be a bona fide treasure fetching such a high price that one could live out the rest of their days on the profits.

Of course, there was no small risk involved.

There were tough life-forms that preferred to live in places with high concentrations of mana material; we called them monsters. Then there were living apparitions which materialized in the same way as the treasure vaults, known as phantoms. Not only were there countless traps to hinder intruders, but even the topography itself could be an obstacle. Worst of all, the vault could also inspire hunters to turn against and murder one another.

Despite all this life-threatening danger, hunters continued to seek treasure vaults. The allure of wealth, fame, and—depending on the concentration of mana material—power was simply too great to give up.

The imperial capital, Zebrudia, was the number one gathering place in the world for treasure hunters. It boasted convenient travel, a safe and well-developed metropolitan area, and unrivaled national strength. All this combined with the countless overlapping ley lines—the passages through which mana material traveled around the world—made Zebrudia something of a holy land for treasure hunters who wanted to challenge vaults of any and all skill levels.

An abundance of treasures and monster materials from vaults brought merchants from all over, attracting even more hunters. The more famous hunters gathered here, the more the city’s safety was prioritized. This cycle led to the Zebrudian Empire becoming the strongest of all of the great powers.

When we, a group of kids from a small town on the border, had decided to become treasure hunters, we’d had to take multiple carriages and force our way into the capital. I’d say that forging ourselves in that kind of environment was our shortcut to glory. In fact, we might have ended up a bit too refined.

Still, I thought that we’d done the right thing. After all, the Zebrudian Empire was a land built on the backs of hunters. The laws of the empire prioritized hunters first and foremost, making things easier for us through taxes, facilities, and other means.

My clan, First Steps, had its headquarters established in the heart of the imperial capital, on a plot that overlooked the main street. People called a clan’s headquarters the “clan house,” but ours was a huge, five-story building, constructed using vast funds squeezed from our members.

I happened to be dozing in the sunlit clan master’s room on the top floor when my second-in-command came dashing up like she was going to break the door down.

Now, managing a clan was far from easy business. It demanded skills entirely different from the skills required for treasure hunts. Other clan masters managed their clans themselves, but here in First Steps I had hirelings to help me out.

My second-in-command, Eva Renfied, had ten non-hunter personnel working under her. Unlike our muscly beasts, she had a more delicate and slender build. Behind her red-rimmed glasses were eyes that shone like amethysts. Her brunette hair was well-maintained. In contrast to our sloppy hunters, she had the appearance of someone who could actually get a job done. Honestly, without her, this clan would probably go up in flames.

She was one of the many people I had hired to work behind the scenes for when it was time for me to throw in the towel. Another very important but unspoken reason for her hire was that she couldn’t kill me in one punch like a hunter would.

Eva made sure that I was awake and heaved a deep sigh. “Krai, you’re on the front page of the papers.”

“Oh. Really?”

Annoyed, Eva pulled the newspaper from under her arm and slapped it on my desk. It was the biggest newspaper in the capital city, Zebrudia Daily. Plastered on the front page was a large image of the venue we had used for yesterday’s recruitment meet. However, the sign above the door had fallen, there was a massive hole in the wall, and portions of it were on fire. Through the hole, you could see a bunch of hunters engaged in a messy brawl.

The title of the article was “Breakout Battle at Ark Brave Recruitment Party.”

They, uh, seem to have misunderstood a few things. Either way, I wanted to vomit. With a big yawn, I skimmed the article. There was one vital thing I had to confirm first.

“Any injured common folk?”

“Fortunately, there have been no reports.”

“All good, then. That would’ve been a real problem, if so.”

Good thing I had the bar’s owner leave beforehand. By the time things got bad, only hunters were there.

First-rate hunters could kill with a single finger. Our clan’s motto was “Don’t hurt the common folk.” Destroyed buildings could be rebuilt, but even the best Clerics couldn’t save a dead guy.

I gave the contents a proper read this time. Fortunately, the name Grieving Souls didn’t appear anywhere. Our party was a bunch of complete idiots, so Zebrudia Daily was really covering our behinds. In a way, they were pretty lenient when it came to us.

But geez, those beasts really didn’t know how to hold back. I couldn’t believe they’d gotten into a brawl over such a low-level Relic. They’d destroyed a building for it!

Not knowing the details, Eva glared at me through her glasses. “Seems to me like you only made it worse.”

“Nah, I don’t think I did. It was already pretty bad without my help.”

Ultimately, the recruitment meet had never reached a proper conclusion. I had already escaped by the time tables started getting thrown, so I wasn’t aware of the eventual outcome. Apparently, things had gotten very heated.

Li’l Gilbert had been taken down by Tino pretty early on. That’s muscleheads for you. Everyone there had flammable dispositions; introduce one little spark, and it would start a wildfire.

Man. I really gotta move somewhere faaar away.

“Has Ark said anything?”

“I saw him in the lounge, but he just laughed while he read the paper. I don’t think he is concerned.”

Never had I met a more tolerant guy. He didn’t even care about this blatant exposé. Truly, a hero’s repertoire had to include more than raw strength. I was glad that his party, Ark Brave, was our number two. He’d saved my hide more than once. With that, we ought to be able to make it through this mess.

As I threw the newspaper aside, propped my feet up on the table, and started polishing my many rings, Eva pressed a hand to her forehead in frustration.

“And the settlement for the ruined bar?” she asked over the sound of my rattling chains.

“Make Ark handle the claim. Calculate the opportunity loss and have him repay that, too. That was our deal when we rented the place.”

“The Association has grievances as well.”

“Handle it however you want.”

I was used to grievances. At first, I had wanted to vomit whenever they came. But grievances were almost an everyday thing, and you couldn’t vomit every day.

As I disinterestedly continued my polishing, Eva said, “They want an explanation in person. ‘Without the sass,’ they added.”

“Oh great, a summons. Now I wanna vomit.” There was a stinging pain in my stomach.

The capital was a city of treasure hunters. As such, the biggest hunter-managing organization, the Explorers’ Association, held great influence. On paper, First Steps was under the Association’s command, so I couldn’t refuse a summons.

In response to my grimace and brutal honesty, Eva snapped, “You should be used to it. How many times has it been now?”

“No matter how many times it happens, I’ll never get used to being summoned. Their branch manager is scary as hell. Guarantee he’s killed at least a few people.”

“Not this again...”

The Explorers’ Association had branches in every city, but the guy managing the imperial capital’s branch, Gark, was a former hunter. Once he’d retired, this ex-beast had started working for the Association. It had been some time since then, but he was still hale and hearty. The man was a real warrior who wouldn’t hesitate to step in to stop a hunter fight. And boy, was he terrifying.

Even worse, he had been helping us since we’d arrived here at the capital, so I couldn’t talk back to him. Truly, I was screwed.

“Ugh, for real? If I ignored him, that guy would ride all the way over here himself.”

I accidentally ignored him once, and it turned into this whole big thing. Ever since then, Gark had been nailed to the tippy-top of my “do not fuck with” list.

Most of all, Gark’s assistant manager was a good person who tended to hold him back, so it was a much safer idea for me to just go to the branch where I could be with both of them. I would’ve loved to send someone else in my stead, but the person who actually did all the clan management, Eva, wasn’t a hunter. I just didn’t have the heart to send her into hunter territory.

“What if we sent Ark?”

“Don’t you think you’re relying on him too much?”

What other options do I have? Just because people here are strong doesn’t mean they’re good people. I racked my brain for a while, but no good ideas came to mind.

“Ah, whatever. I really don’t wanna go, but I will. Seriously, I hate to do it, especially without a guard. Plus my disguise Relic broke a while back.”

If the other Grieving Souls members were here, one of them would come with me for protection. But as they were always out on high-difficulty vault raids, there was no telling when they’d be back.

“You’ll be just fine. We’re in the capital, remember?”

“You can say that because you’ve never been attacked in the street. Well, I guess that hasn’t happened since we ‘took care’ of the offenders.”

I put my best, shiniest ring on my pointer finger and placed the rest in my bag. After fastening the chains on my belt, I stood up. Might as well rip the bandage off now.

Perhaps it was time to show off my legendary “get on the floor and beg” skill.

The Association’s Zebrudia branch was about a fifteen-minute walk from clan HQ, between a big shop and a pub. It was pretty small compared to the other nearby buildings, but in terms of prosperity, it easily beat both combined. Their flag, a treasure box drawn on a red background, flapped in the breeze.

I glanced around just to be sure, and finally entered while suppressing the urge to vomit. Hot, stuffy air washed over me, causing me to wince. This building was a stronghold of beasts.

There was a clear line between treasure hunters and common folk. It couldn’t be identified by age, or sex, or clothing, but one could tell the difference at a glance. If pressed to explain, I would call it a difference in class between living beings.

Though the capital was a holy land for hunters, the total hunter population wasn’t that high. Walking around outside, you wouldn’t typically encounter one. But this Association branch was like a den for them, the most densely populated beasts’ den in the whole city.

The open lobby was full of unceasing roars, laughter, and cheerful singing. It brought to mind a battlefield. My nostrils were assailed by a mix of blood, alcohol, sweat, and metal. It was the stench of adventures. A hunter twice my size glanced down as he passed by, but he didn’t say a word. It was hard to believe we were the same species.

The Explorers’ Association’s job was to support hunters. Trading Relics and monster materials, providing information, helping people find parties—this one-stop shop for hunters was a massive organization with a history as long as treasure hunting itself. It was also in charge of assigning levels to hunters, parties, clans, and treasure vaults, along with assigning jobs to hunters.

Getting into a vault could be done by non-hunters, but people who did that typically died. It made much more sense to join the Association if you wanted to be a hunter. Membership wasn’t free, of course. Each year, a hunter had to pay a tax that scaled with their earnings. There were other duties, too. Occasionally, for example, they would force crappy jobs on you.

When a clan got to the sheer scale of the Steps, they could take care of themselves without the Association’s help. In fact, some clans were doing just that. But I didn’t want them watching us like a hawk, and the fees weren’t that bad anyway, so I accepted the role of Association dog.

Also, the girl at their reception desk was so cute that she could’ve been a celebrity. See, the Association was useful for something.

I pushed my way through the crowd of hunters, enduring the odors of blood and excitement as I moved forward. It was really scary to go through the guys brandishing bandages and scars on their faces, but I knew from experience that just looking down and keeping to yourself was the best way to get them to bother you. The strong ate the weak. Why did this place run on survival of the fittest, anyway?

I caught sight of a hunter reading an open newspaper. The half-destroyed bar was right on the front page. It wasn’t Zebrudia Daily, but another newspaper that had clearly jumped on the bandwagon.

Not my fault. Not. My. Fault. Damn you, mass media! Report the real news instead!

“Fame really is a sad thing, huh?” I wanted to vomit, but a nihilistic grin spread across my face as I lined up at reception.

My prayers for my turn to never come seemed to fall on deaf ears as I quickly moved to the front of the line.

“Thank you for coming to the Explorers’ Association today!” The black-haired receptionist gave me a heartwarming smile.

She wasn’t a hunter, as it turned out. Part of the reason I’d staffed my own clan with non-hunters was because I’d been jealous of the Association’s setup here.

Trying to look cool, I slapped my hands down on the counter and spoke in a low tone of voice. My objective? To sound like a tough guy.

“I’m here to talk to your branch manager, Gark. He already knows about it; I just need you to take me to him.”

The receptionist didn’t shrink back at my aggressive act, instead just keeping up her big ol’ smile. “Yes, sir. This is about the demolished bar, right? I’ve been given the details. Oh, and Mr. Andrey? Just as a reminder, you don’t need to stand in line when you’re summoned.”

Actually, sweetie, it was only half demolished, I thought as she guided me to Gark’s office.

I acted big up front, but that was just for appearances. Now that I was with Gark, I threw away my pride with zero hesitation. He had already seen me at my most shameful of times anyway. I prostrated myself at full power the moment we made eye contact. Sincerity was the key to an apology, after all.

“I’m deeply sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused!”