02 — Saint Weirdo’s Day

02 — Saint Weirdo’s Day

Day in, day out, it was nothing but the undead. They were nasty and stank to high heaven, to the point where I was starting to doubt that anyone had ever actually run this training gauntlet in its entirety before. But someone like Brod or Lumina, someone who could move faster than the eye could register, would surely have made quick work of it.

Then it hit me. According to that background about the knights and all that, the reason none of those groups had managed to clear it before now was because the monsters’ magic gradually tore at the seams of their minds, until confusion and panic destroyed them from within. That was how they justified sending lone healers down here instead.

We traded blows. My eyes never left my opponent, studying it for an opening and only attacking when I spotted one.

“You’d think the undead wouldn’t feel pain,” I taunted. “But you definitely feel something, don’t you?”

Our blades clashed and metal rang out. I parried the next slash with my shield, then focused magic into my leg and struck the creature’s right flank with it. It groaned in agony as it slammed into the labyrinth wall, before becoming a stone and falling to the floor.

I was nearing the three-month mark of my life in the labyrinth. My only reprieve was once a week, when I would come up to chat with Cattleya and practice horse riding, or replenish my food and Substance X stores.

I had progressed all the way to the thirtieth floor, but not to the boss room just yet. There was a new skill I’d learned from an adventurer I healed during one of my outings that I wanted to get the hang of first: Physical Enhancement. By manipulating the magical energy within me and circulating it through my body at high speeds, I could, as the name suggested, enhance my physical abilities. It quickly became one of my mainstays, especially considering how practiced I already was in Magic Handling.

“Think it’s been almost a week now,” I muttered, then made my way out of the (very real) labyrinth of undeath.

“Welcome back. How have things been lately?” Cattleya asked, waiting for me where she always did.

“I’ve finally gotten the hang of those death knights. They’re no problem now. I could probably take on several with Physical Enhancement.”

“Impressive. That reminds me, you’re still not going to class-up?”

I’d risen to healer level six just the other day. “I don’t think so. I’m using it as motivation to clear the labyrinth. It’ll be my reward.”

She giggled. “Has anyone ever told you you’re surprisingly headstrong?”

“You think so? Anyway, I’m planning on heading to the thirtieth floor’s main chamber soon.”

“I know you must be tired of hearing me say it, but be careful. Stay alive down there.”

“I’ll try,” I laughed.

“Are you heading straight back down?”

“Not yet. I have an errand to run first. Oh, yeah, and how have the Valkyries been doing?”

“Well enough. They’re still stuck in the field.”

Lumina and her regiment had returned to the city once, but the fighting at the border had intensified, so they were sent right back out. Ever since, they’d been stationed at a bordertown. And worse, they were on orders to protect healers, which didn’t bode well.

“Those ladies are a compassionate bunch,” I said.

“And worth a whole lot more than some pack of greedy healers,” Cattleya grumbled.

“As a healer myself, I have to agree.”

“Oh, yeah... I forgot you were one of those.” I could only laugh. I certainly didn’t look the part—I was more knight than healer at this point. My paladin armor fit me well. “I keep confusing you for a paladin now. It doesn’t help when I hear people calling you ‘Saint Sir Weirdo’ these days.”

“You really like teasing me, don’t you?”

She chuckled. “So, what’s the plan for your day off, then?”

“Stop by the Adventurer’s Guild, stock up on food somewhere, then head back down.”

“Don’t you get sick of fighting those things all the time?”

“Surprisingly, no. Maybe because my mental resistance skills are so high.”

“What is it I told you not to do again?”

“Push myself. I know,” I said coolly. “I’ll be back later.”

“Have a safe trip.”

I’d met with no trouble over the last three months. Partly because of my build, which hid my infamous job, and mostly because I spent my days down in the dungeon. Social encounters weren’t common there and no one knew when I’d be back out again. The only inconveniences I’d found myself faced with were pointless pranks in the quarters neither my belongings nor I ever found ourselves in to begin with.

While thinking all this over, I arrived at the Adventurer’s Guild.

“Excuse me!”

The guildmaster came over to greet me. “There he is, Saint Weirdo! Here for the usual? Or ya here to heal?”

“It’s rare to see you outside of the kitchen. Did something happen?”

“Figured ya’d be here for a refill before long, that’s all. And ya said you took a day off every week.”

“I’m surprised you remembered. It’s been over a month.”

“Bah! It’ll be a cold day’n hell before I forgetcha after all you’ve done for us.”

“Then let me rephrase the question. Why are you always in the kitchen?”

“I like it.”

“I see.” I left it at that. “Would you mind sending some letters for me again? And I’ll need ten more barrels of Substance X, please. Also...”

“Saint Weirdo,” the vice guildmaster, Milty, interjected.

“Oh, hello, Milty. Please gather the injured downstairs.”

“Will do.”

“And here are those barrels for the Substance X.” I called up my empty barrels and the guildmaster carried them off to the kitchen while Milty descended the stairs to the training grounds.

When did this “Saint Weirdo’s Day” thing even begin? Ever since I had earned my new nickname, I’d been visiting the guild once a month, accepting requests as an adventurer. I was paid in silver, sometimes in information, sometimes sparring matches that I would use to judge my skill level and get advice. An unexpected side effect of this was that novice adventurers were training more, meaning fewer casualties and failed missions. No one wanted to be the one to lose to the healer.

Right now, I could take on several E- or D-rank adventurers and not lose, but I couldn’t exactly win either. Every so often, I’d win a one-on-one with a D-ranker, though. Especially if my opponent was the hotheaded type. C-rankers were my new baseline training partners and I was confident that I wouldn’t die where I stood the moment I came across a monster anymore.

Saint Weirdo’s Day had spawned influxes of high-ranking requests as adventurers started accepting them in conjunction with their “new holiday.” There were fewer and fewer powerful monsters in the region.

For some reason, I currently stood at the center of this cycle of positivity, and at some point the adventurers of the Holy City had taken a liking to me. All of this information came to me from the chef-slash-guildmaster Grantz and his waitress-slash-vice guildmaster Milty, the two top adventurers in the branch. They were the top ones, right? It was often hard to tell with that strange duo.

Someone suddenly approached me. “How’s it goin’, Saint?”

“Oh, Elitz. It’s been a while.”

“Gettin’ any better at that Physical Enhancement technique?”

“I think so, but it’s pretty tough. I still can’t keep up with my own speed.”

“With a Magic Handling and Control skill like what you’ve got, I bet circulating your energy’s nothin’ to you, huh?” he remarked. “Still level one?”

“Yep, still haven’t beaten any monsters.”

“Gah! Man, talk about wasted potential! If you can fight that good at level one, I don’t even wanna think about how unreal you’d be if you were higher!”

“I’m just trying to survive. Does everyone know about that technique?”

“Sure, it’s pretty well-known, but knowing about it doesn’t matter if you can’t control magic.”

“True.”

“So, anyway, ’bout that last match...”

Elitz—an A-ranker—and I chatted until Grantz returned with my Substance X. I put the containers into my magic bag, then went downstairs. Two casts of Area High Heal, some Purification, a bit of Recover, a dash of Dispel, and the job was done.

“That about does it,” I murmured. “Now, does anyone have any information from Merratoni or on the Valkyries?” After the healing came news from anyone who had some to share.

“The Valkyries are safe, but there have been fatalities in the templars,” one reported.

“I hear a general of the Empire, the Lion of War himself, tore through a citadel single-handedly on horseback,” another said. Whoever this “Lion of War” was, I didn’t want to meet him.

Merratoni came next. “The Whirlwind’s been goin’ nuts and throwin’ adventurers in the basement to train.”

“The Bear Chef’s forcing Substance X down their throats and cookin’ up ways to work it into recipes.”

It sounded like Galba had his hands full with those two. I couldn’t help but smile before a single sentence replaced all traces of nostalgic joy with crippling anxiety.

“Apparently, a few of the Adventurer’s Guild receptionists are getting married.”

“You. Details,” I demanded.

“The way I hear it, some A-rank beastfolk wooed ’em.”

But which receptionists were they? Nanaella? Monica? Was that why they hadn’t been replying to my letters? I was suddenly overcome by loneliness.

After that, I ordered some food at the dining hall before leaving. On my way out, I received my compensation and the adventurers and staff invited me to lunch someday. I needed more food, though, so I stopped by several other places, then made for the labyrinth.

“Time to head down.” Think I’ll sleep in the tenth-floor boss room tonight.

I’d recently noticed something: taking out monsters with my magically-charged weapons increased my Holy Magic experience by one with every kill. My drive rekindled and my focus sharp, I set my sights on moving up to level nine. Level ten was still a far-off dream, but I was proud of my pace.

“I’ll take on the thirtieth-floor boss once I’ve gotten a better handle on Physical Enhancement.”

I tested out my new technique a bit more, then fell into a deep, peaceful, Angel’s Pillow-assisted slumber.