04 — Level-Ups and More Old Guys

04 — Level-Ups and More Old Guys

The labyrinth celebrated my return with a lovely baptism of absolute garbage that burned my nostrils. It sure was good to be back.

I quickly noticed that something was different during my patrol of the first floor.

“No zombies? Weird.”

The walking corpses that had never been shy in the past were nowhere to be seen, which was strange because no one had been there to thin them out.

I continued searching for some time, then gave up and descended to the second floor, but again came up empty. More miasma meant more monsters, though, so I continued to the third floor. At last, I found a wandering group of zombies and skeletons. I summoned my Holy Dragon spear from my magic bag, but the creatures wouldn’t get close enough, so I dispatched them with Purification.

As I watched them fade away, I realized that I no longer took satisfaction in defeating them. How in the world had past-me been able to hold it together? I had conquered a labyrinth. In retrospect, that was kind of insane, although it was a little irresponsible of me to have flat out ignored the place after that.

Not even a month had gone by since then, but I wasn’t the type to focus on past glories. There was way too much that needed doing; I couldn’t waste time looking back. Dwelling on things only forced me to remember the dragon, and you couldn’t pay me to go anywhere near another one of those. I was going to live a peaceful life, no matter what it took. I couldn’t rely on the Church for comfort if they ever let me go, even being at S-rank. Like they say, you get as much out of life as you put into it.

I had covered a decent amount of the labyrinth and had just decided to head back when I thought of my level. Just to be sure, I opened my status screen.

Name: Luciel

Job: Healer IX — Holy Dragoon I

Age: 19

Level: 2

HP: 890 — MP: 590

STR: 158 — VIT: 169

DEX: 143 — AGI: 145

INT: 176 — MGI: 190

RMG: 182 — SP: 2

“Seriously? That one fight was enough to level up?” I couldn’t help but wonder how high my level would’ve been if I had stopped drinking Substance X when I’d first arrived in the Holy City.

My HP, MP, and other attributes had jumped up a few points, while my SP had gone up by just two. The Protection of the God of Fate gave a boost to the latter, which likely meant that a normal level-up provided either one skill point or none at all.

I looked up at the ceiling for a divine answer from my protector himself, then remembered my master’s words. Stats were only a general concept. There was no point getting caught up in the numbers, so I closed the screen. But the restlessness—as well as this newfound reluctance to fight the undead—still wouldn’t settle.

I quickly got moving to clear my head. Fortunately (or unfortunately?), there were so few monsters on these higher floors that it took considerable effort to even find more enemies. When I finally did, they moved so slowly that taking them out was practically effortless, which didn’t help the strange sense of guilt I felt in doing so.

I decided to head for the boss room on the tenth floor and was met with almost no resistance along the way. The labyrinth seemed to be on its last legs. Upon entering the first boss room, barely half of the usual monsters appeared.

I felt my guilt fade to the back of my mind. For some reason, as I tore through their ranks with the Holy Dragon spear and a holy silver sword, my hesitation vanished. One moment of uncertainty around enemies that were after your life could mean death, and I would never have forgiven myself if I’d done something so stupid.

By the time I finished, I had reached level five but didn’t feel a bit stronger. I figured I would have to spar with someone if I wanted to really see the results. With plenty to report to Her Holiness, I had turned to leave when my body suddenly felt like lead. It finally occurred to me just how tense I’d been the entire time.

I broke into a nervous smile. Until only a month or so ago I’d been practically living in mortal peril, my emotions numb, and now I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to handle it again. Danger and traveling the world went hand in hand, though, so I would have to.

I figured I’d better make time to come down to the labyrinth every now and then in order to stay prepared.

On my way out, my level jumped up to six, putting my SP at ten. I looked through possible skills to spend the new points on and found quite a few more handy-looking options than expected: Scouting, Perception, Stealth, Magic Concealment, Presence Concealment, Magic Occlusion, and so on. I even spotted Monsieur Luck’s older brother, Supreme Luck (Sir Preme Luck?), who I desperately wanted to meet, but he wouldn’t budge for anything less than a hundred SP, a sum I wouldn’t reach for at least another forty-five levels.

“Gah, I really blew it.”

“Blew what?”

I looked up to see Catherine waiting for me just outside the entrance with an eyebrow raised.

“What are you doing here?” I asked once I had stopped cringing at myself. “Need something?”

“Nope. You have visitors.”

I looked into the shop with her. Inside stood a short yet muscular bearded man and a beastperson with pointy, upturned lips and sharp eyes—a dwarf and fox-man, by my guess. What did they want with me? How had a dwarf and beastperson waltzed into Church Headquarters, the seat of human supremacy? For that matter, what were they doing in front of the Church’s most well-kept secret? Clearly there was more to these two than met the eye.

I couldn’t take my gaze off them and summarized my intense confusion thusly: “Is this, like, allowed?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” Catherine smiled gently. “They’re long-time friends of the Church and know how to keep a secret.”

With those words, she had assuaged my concerns, but I still had no idea what they were there for.

“Oh, okay. Who are they?”

“Grand, the dwarven blacksmith, and Trett, the fox-man magic artificer. You might have heard of them.”

Sorry, Catherine, but those names might as well be Greek to me. Way to make things awkward. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Luciel. Healer. And I’m sorry, but I’m a bit out of the loop, so I can’t say I’ve heard of either of you.”

“Honest. I like that,” the dwarf replied. “The name’s Grand and I’m a blacksmith by trade. I make armor and weapons for the knights here. You see it, it probably came outta my forge. And you. You don’t look like any healer I know. Maybe a knight.”

Wow, talk about being in the presence of greatness. I owed more than a lot to this guy. Without his equipment, I’d have been dead meat at the first boss room.

“Oh-ho,” the fox-man cooed, “my goodness you look so handsome in that armor. Oh, you can call me Trett. I make robes for the Church, just like the one you’ve got on. But my, look at you. That’s no healer’s body, no sir.”

Would you look at that? Another person I owed my life to. Would it have killed Catherine to have told me they were coming?

“I’m so glad to finally meet you two,” I answered. “I wouldn’t be here without your work, and I’ve wanted to thank you for so long. Also, am I allowed to ask why you guys are feeling me up?”

The men, shamelessly and with absolutely no regard for my gratitude, were fondling every inch of my body. Call me crazy, but it made me a little uncomfortable. Just as I was about to protest, I locked eyes with Catherine, who smiled and silently mouthed the words, “Don’t you move.”

“‘Luciel’ you said your name was? We’re checking your posture and muscles,” Grand explained. “Gonna make you a set o’ your own personal gear.”

“Wait, really?” Hold the phone, since when was that a thing? Was Catherine ever planning on telling me? Or Her Holiness? Had they simply forgotten to mention it?

“Mm-hm. I’m not rubbing that cute tush of yours just because I want to,” Trett said. “We’re here on business.”

No. Just no. What robe-making purpose could groping my thighs and butt—and so gently—possibly serve? “Business,” my foot!

Before I could get uppity about it, Catherine pinned me with an icy glare. “Of course. Carry on.”

The ordeal lasted for over ten minutes and put me through many different poses.

“Guy’s a bit weird, but his build’s not bad, Cattleya. If he keeps trainin’, bet he’ll be the strongest healer out there.”

“Cattleya, dear, what will his things be made of?”

Did they just call Catherine “Cattleya”? And hold on, do we not even have the materials yet?

“Something I’m sure neither of you have ever worked with before. Frankly, I think what Luciel has might be too much for you to handle,” she said, taunting them with a smug look.

What was she doing provoking these two? She couldn’t have been a supremacist, so what was her deal? In an instant, all semblance of calm vanished into the ether, replaced by fire and sparks in the air. The craftsmen’s glares shifted to me.

She just had to say something. The only special materials I could think of that I had were my Holy Dragon fangs and scales, but I didn’t even know if I was allowed to hand those over. I looked towards Catherine, and she nodded back.

Grand’s and Trett’s gazes continued to bore holes into me, their eyes screaming at me to cough up the goods. One could learn a lot from the looks in people’s eyes, and in this case I learned a fair bit about myself... Specifically, how badly I wanted to run away.

“Do we have permission from Her Holiness?” I asked Catherine, swallowing my complaints.

“Of course. They wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Personally, I liked Shop-Catherine more than Knight-Catherine.

“Okay, here’s what I have.” I gave some scales to Trett and fangs to Grand. Their fury instantly abated, and they beamed at me but then quickly started to frown.

My curiosity got the better of me. “Is something wrong?”

“These aren’t from just any dragon, are they? These are legendary,” Grand marveled. “Dunno what some healer’s doin’ with stuff like this, but I don’t really give a damn. I’ve never even laid eyes on materials this valuable. Can’t waste them.”

“Absolutely,” Trett crooned. “All craftsmen dream of an opportunity like this. Hoh, dear, but will my talents be enough for this? I’m not so sure.”

Now, that was a good point. Asking them to craft items with legendary materials that they’d never worked with before came with a high risk of failure. The shock and awe they felt must have been on par with the emotions I’d experienced upon first seeing the Holy Dragon himself.

To my credit, these two had a way to bow out. I had not had that luxury. And these guys had more than one shot to succeed.

“Don’t worry. If you mess up, I’ve got plenty of extras.” I showed them several more fangs and scales. The men began to tremble.

“Next time, lead with that!” they shouted, but their fury quickly lost to childlike excitement. Eager grins spread across their faces. They terrified me as people, but as craftsmen they were first-rate, and I must have offended them.

“We’re goin’ to the forges, Luciel.”

“Cattleya, be a dear and let us borrow him, would you?”

The two clamped onto my arms and started to drag me away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on! I don’t have time to just up and disappear! Tell me where your shop is and I’ll stop by later.” I tried to struggle, but their grips were harder than iron. I couldn’t budge.

Jord and my team still needed me, to say nothing of the rumors that would arise if I let these two drag me around town. But my captors functioned on a fundamentally different level of thought.

“Where is it? In Rockford, of course!” they said in unison.

“Excuse me? Uh, Catherine? A little help?”

She giggled. “Now, don’t be unreasonable, you two. He’s under the Church’s protection. I can’t just let you take him home with you.”

They clicked their tongues in frustration. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the pair. How serious had they been about trying to abduct me?

Catherine suddenly shot a meaningful glance my way. I had a very bad feeling but was powerless to stop the coming tragedy.

“I did expect this, however,” she announced. “So I found you a local smithy where you can get straight to work.”

“Huh?” Grand grunted. “Well, say so sooner! I do remember there bein’ adamantite forges here, and I got the time, so, eh, I’ll bite.”

“Oh-ho, I can’t wait to get started,” Trett added fawningly.

I might as well not have been there. “Hey, Catherine, I still have my team to get back to and details to work out with the Valkyries.”

“Listen, these men are extremely busy people, Luciel. And you’ll be right here in the city, so you can leave your guard behind.”

Then maybe we could nix the double standards and let me go out without an escort all the time? Or was that asking too much? I got the feeling Catherine had masterminded this entire situation.

As we made our way to the smithy with Catherine as my substitute personal guard and the craftsmen on each of my arms, I heard people whispering something about Saint Weirdo leaning a certain way. The fires that had been started during Master’s visit when he and the others had paraded me through town were instantly rekindled.

That is until I met the eyes of those passing by. Then the people understood my pain, saw that I was being dragged against my will. They still ignored me, though. I may have averted their doubts about the nature of my sexuality, but at what cost?

I would only learn of the damage done some time later, of the whisperings that had begun to stir. Whisperings of Saint Weirdo’s growing harem of old, pining men.

This would become one of many reasons for my need to set out from the Holy City, but that’s a story for another time.