Chapter 11

11th Mission

Iron Tier Adventurer Hassan

011 – <Iron Tier Adventurer Hassan>

The prelude of Sodomora.

Sodomora’s prelude…

I muttered important information under my breath like a rookie soldier receiving his first mission.

This is my debut as an adventurer, and I absolutely loathe the idea of losing reputation due to mistakes or unexpected mishaps.

For adventurers who spend good money advertising on the board to enhance their fame, reputation is everything. Even if the task seems easy, it’d be wise not to be complacent and strive for a successful completion.

‘Hassan: @@@@Diligent Worker@@@@’

Thinking about how my profile might one day appear on the board, I approached the prelude of Sodomora.

But d*mn it, the city is so huge and I got completely lost, only finally reaching the prelude after noon.

The prelude to the city was relatively quiet for a gate.

I scanned the area, looking for someone holding a wooden sign like me.

“What are you staring at? You looking for trouble, savage?”

“Can’t you see? Just being big doesn’t mean anything.”

Every time I met eyes with someone, I heard curses; clearly, they weren’t my party members.

Adventurers typically armed and armored, they didn’t look like the cleaning types. Likely fascists, if their “cleaning” refers to ethnic cleansing.

So where are my party members? Did they leave without me?

d*mn it, this is bad. I should’ve asked for directions earlier. I lamented this choice when I heard my name called.

“Hey you, Samaritan.”

Huh? Only I resemble a Samaritan in this crowd.

“Yes, over there. Are you part of the temple-cleaning party?”

A robust male voice bellowed, slightly strained. Turning, I saw nothing.

“Here, here mate.”

Looking down, indeed, a small bearded man was looking up at me. Why so short? A Dwarf?

No, this man feels too frail to be a Dwarf. While Dwarves resemble tough pebbles, this elderly man resembles a frail clam. His scraggly beard hardly resembles the lush beards of Dwarves.

Small and childlike in his mouse-brown robe, this white-haired, wrinkled elder seems weak.

I’ve heard of this race but can’t quite recall where.

“What are you looking down at? Thinking I’m short so you can look down on me? Academically, Samaritans might be big, but you know what’s small? Your brain.”

Seriously? How’d he know?

He isn’t ordinary; a unique aura radiates from this old man.

Regardless, we confirmed our identities by showing each other the wooden party badges issued by the Mars Guild. Scanning the prelude, the old man spoke,

“I thought I was first here, but there’s someone ahead of me. For a Samaritan, for a young man today, quite diligent.”

“I was the first, right?”

“Yes, you must have been. Let’s wait; others should arrive soon.”

But wait, I thought I was the last…? As I mused over this odd realization, I spotted someone waving in the distance.

“Hello there! By the looks of it, you’re the cleaning crew.”

The man stood out in a flamboyant cap. Slightly shorter than me but still tall for this world.

A red-haired, big-nosed figure appeared, almost completely dominated by his nose. An average face but undeniably odd in its unattractiveness.

On his back hung a massive wooden stick, which I assumed was an adventurer’s weapon or perhaps a cleaning tool, until:

Ding, ding.

It turned out to be some kind of stringed instrument. What’s with the guitar here?

Ding, ding.

“Same wooden badge. Praise to Mercury, the god of travelers. A fateful meeting. A painful conclusion…”

He began playing and singing simultaneously, creating an odd scene.

“What is this, a lunatic?”

Meeting him confirmed my suspicion. The guitar-toting madman seemed far from normal.

Passersby shouted “What’s this?” and “He can’t sing!” prompting me to pretend I didn’t know him. Embarrassing.

Remembering Daphne’s warning about an odd individual joining the team, I now knew it was this guitarist.

Although the old man was strange too, none could match this guitar-playing guy.

Just as I thought,

Another peculiar individual arrived.

“Are you members of the outer temple cleaning party?”

First, I noticed a giant mask resembling a Chinese lion costume carved from wood. Underneath was attire reminiscent of the dancers I’d once seen in Elpride — flowing, revealing fabric. Walking barefoot but adorned with heavy accessories that rattled as she moved.

A woman, it seemed, dressed rather oddly.

Observing her extensive skin exposure and prominent chest beneath the mask, I thought,

“Hmm, that’s a unique mask, minimal cloth covering your skin, and odd charms. You must be an Ideope sorcerer, though I thought this city wouldn’t house a savage’s daughter.”

The old half-man knew his stuff, boasting as if a peacock flaring its tail.

A sorcerer? Is this even a thing?

In a world where godly blessings and magic curses exist, why not sorcery?

“Elder Half-ling grandfather! Impressive recognition! I am Luna, a voodoo priest of Ideope. I am Luna, daughter of the great night.”

“What? You calling me an old Half-ling grandfather now? This body belongs to Platan, the renowned scholar of Delphicuros Academy. Surely even a savage girl has heard of my esteemed reputation?”

“Never.”

“Tsk, these youngsters lack cultivation. Pushing knowledge onto the slow-witted is foolish, and forcing it on the uncivilized barbarians? That’s ignorance.”

Thus, the masked woman is Luna, and the half-sized old man appears to be a Half-ling named Platan. Introductions seemed appropriate, so I too prepared to share my name.

Ding, ding.

“My name’s Malco, a wandering minstrel. We’re all Copper tier adventurers today.”

Unnecessary as it was, he finished his introduction, and now all eyes landed on me.

Receiving this kind of attention was rare, so I nervously replied,

“I’m Hassan. Nice to meet you all.”

Our group was odd, but the task was merely cleaning up trash and weeds.

A fleeting meeting, no need to delve into personal stories or form bonds.

We all seemed to share this sentiment, leading to a curt introduction with no further questions.

*

“Old man, are we going the right way? You do know how to read a map, right?”

Leaving the walls of Sodomora, we’d been walking for hours now.

Walking through the plains westward would eventually lead us to a lush forest where our target temple lay.

“For heaven’s sake, young Samaritan. Reading a map is akin to reading the world, and reading the world is understanding truth. Ergo, reading a map is grasping the truth.”

I didn’t understand a word he said, but for an hour now, this Half-ling Platan had been spouting similar nonsense while walking in circles.

This scholar, with his big talk, might not actually know how to read a map.

X

Seeing a tree I’d marked earlier with my dagger, I was about to express my frustration when,

“Keeeoooot! Tiger Hornet!”

Screaming, a party member darted off. It was the voodoo priest Luna.

“Got it! Lucky me!”

Luna grabbed a thumb-sized hornet with her twig-like tool, then plopped it into a leather flask tied to her waist.

Inside were already over five hornets.

Buzz…buzzbuzzbuzzbuzz…

The constant buzzing annoyed me until the old man added,

“In local folklore, honey made from bees boosts stamina, and Ideope uses their stings medicinally. Fascinating savages.”

“It’s more like you don’t know. Bee wine is pricey! It sells for a silver per bottle!”

“Silver? What? Selling such things for money? Madness. In Titan days, none of this happened.”

Eyes now darting around the woods for bees, the Half-ling Platan looked eager.

Would the map-reader please focus on the map? Fidgety fool.

Ding, ding.

“Buzz of bees, music comes to me! The Flight of Tiger Hornet, bees go wing-wing, always working…”

Enough chatter already. This is a weird party.

According to Daphne, there’d be one oddball, but now everyone seems off. Except me, clearly.

Wait, is something wrong with me?

The companions of Elpride were dysfunctional but not this crazy. Silver-tier adventurers and Iron-tier types seem worlds apart.

Then a buzz buzzed in front of me.

d*mn, it’s a bee.

One silver!

Without thinking, I slapped the bee with my hand. It fell, stunned, buzzing feebly as I snatched its midsection.

Big as my fist, its wings hummed like a helicopter, scary and metallic-looking.

The clicking sounds it made were nerve-wracking.

How did I touch it with my bare hands?

This is one big bee; its honey must fetch a high price.

Just as I struggled to place it in my leather pouch,

“Wow, that’s a wheel bug! Extremely hard to catch, isn’t it? Samaritans really have courage, huh? You’re Hassan, right?”

Ever since joining, Lunas’ been eyeing all kinds of bugs.

“Wheel Bug?”

“Yes, at 20 coppers apiece. Very aggressive, too. You didn’t get stung? Lucky you! Alive, it’s worth 30 coppers!”

Her disguised face still radiated envy.

I’m no stranger to bees since my father got me stung plenty while teaching me how to survive. During the Korean military service or family gravesites cleaning, I met bees often enough.

Still, one bee worth 30 coppers? That’s more than my cleaning fee.

30 coppers equals six bowls of hot national soup, or ten cheaper ones.

d*mn, this is crazy.

“30 coppers? Did those little insects have such academic value when I was young?”

“For me, this is more than I make singing on the street all day!”

The small scholar, Platan, and the big-nosed minstrel began showing interest due to the value.

Thus began our bizarre journey, collecting bees, beetles, mushrooms, showing off our finds, and boasting.

[Postscript:] Woke up to suddenly more follows and recommendations! Apparently, cute little girls attract a larger audience!

To Catalogic who gave a coupon, thank you so much. I promise to work harder!

Received an anonymous coupon as well. With heartfelt thanks, I’ll collect and exchange these coupons into illustrations for the character illustrations, including Kanfreyde and the others…!

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