Chapter 7

After finishing the battle with Anzu, Flamm was at a loss. This was because the items needed to obtain the license were the fangs of the werewolf, which were all inside Anzu’s stomach.

"What a luxury, eating only the upper body, you gourmet..."

Flamm didn’t really understand what was so luxurious about the upper body, but she was so frustrated that she kicked Anzu’s corpse. If she were to start looking for a werewolf now, it would be dark by the time she found one. Moreover, in the pitch-black forest at night, with her exhausted state, there was no guarantee she would survive an encounter with a monster. Therefore, there was only one way to obtain the requested item.

"I guess I have to cut open the stomach."

Anzu’s fur was hard, and her flesh was thick, but with the sharpness of Soul Eater, it wasn’t impossible to cut through. However, when she actually plunged the blade into the monster’s belly and dragged out the organs, she struggled more with the intense smell than the mess. Fortunately, the stomach was found quickly, and the undigested upper body of the werewolf was discovered inside. However, reaching into the slimy organ to pull it out was quite a challenge, even for someone used to butchering animals in the countryside. She pinched her nose with one hand, turned her face away, and slowly inserted her fingers into the cut made by the sword. The warm, slimy sensation made her involuntarily exclaim, "Ugh!" Nevertheless, she pushed her arm deeper and deeper, grabbed the werewolf’s nose, and pulled it out in one swift motion. The moment it was out, she threw it away and brought her hand, covered in transparent slime, close to her face, where the strong, foul odor hit her brain.

"Ughhh!"

She screamed in a high-pitched voice and rubbed her hands on the trunk of a nearby tree and the grass on the ground, but the smell didn’t completely go away. She kicked Anzu’s corpse one more time, sighed, and began the task of cutting off the werewolf’s fangs. This was a tedious process, involving sawing off the werewolf’s mouth, but compared to pulling out the fangs from Anzu’s stomach, it was much easier. Thus, Flamm successfully obtained the requested item. All that was left was to deliver it to the guild, and she would finally become an adventurer... or so she hoped.

"Knowing that receptionist, even if I complete the request, there will probably be another hassle."

To make that unpleasant woman’s nose bleed, she wanted to do more than just complete the request. For that, she wanted to bring back a part of Anzu.

"Sadly, my lack of knowledge. I don’t know which part of Anzu is in high demand."

Monsters naturally have valuable and less valuable parts. The amount of material Flamm could carry without a backpack was limited. Therefore, she could only bring back one part of Anzu. Even if she had the tools to carry more, there was still a limit to how much she could carry. To earn money more efficiently, she needed to know how to judge the value of items. If she had a large-capacity magic bag, like the one used to store epic equipment, it would be a different story, but such an item was out of reach unless she became an S-rank adventurer.

"Well, I’ll just take the fangs for now."

Fangs were a standard material for making weapons, armor, and accessories, not just for werewolves. She struck Anzu’s hard fangs several times with Soul Eater and cut them off. She then picked up the heavy fangs with both arms. They were unexpectedly heavy, but not too heavy to carry. She gripped the werewolf’s fangs in one hand and started walking towards Milkit.

◇◇◇

The sun had set, and the night had descended. With the sound of insects as the background music, Milkit sat on a tree stump at the entrance to the forest, her eyes downcast and her hands clasped at her chest, waiting for her master to return. It had been three hours since she parted ways with Flamm. The battle should have been over long ago, and if that were the case, it was strange that she hadn’t returned yet.

"I’m... waiting for my master to return."

She might never see him again. The thought made her chest hurt. In her life, she had never been interested in the life or death of others, even if they were her master. To her, he was just a device that gave her a small amount of food in exchange for being mistreated. It might have been an unhappy life to those who lived normally, but by accepting herself as an emotionless doll, she was free from the troubles of human relationships and could live more easily.

"This is not an easy relationship."

If Flamm survived and returned, the life from tomorrow and the day after would be something Milkit couldn’t imagine. A life where they were equals, where she was allowed to laugh and be treated as a human, and where her ugly face might even be cured. In exchange, the deeper she got, the greater the pain of losing would be. She would be healed by Flamm’s kindness while always fearing the pain of loss.

"But I want to see the future beyond that."

She didn’t like pain or suffering. She had always envied a life where she didn’t have to endure suffering from others. However, the feeling of giving up, thinking that no matter how much she wanted it, it was impossible, was stronger.

"Phew... finally at the exit, I’m so tired...!"

Milkit heard the voice of a dejected girl. She stood up and looked into the forest, where she saw Flamm, more blood-stained than the last time she saw her, carrying a large fang, a dirty gauntlet, and other unfamiliar items.

"Master!"

She was relieved to see her unharmed. The moment she saw her, she smiled slightly, and that was the answer. Even if she couldn’t reach a satisfying conclusion through reasoning, her instincts already knew what to do. Milkit ran to Flamm, who was slowly walking towards her. Seeing her, Flamm smiled.

"Welcome back, Milkit."

"Welcome home, Master."

Milkit tried to take some of the items Flamm was carrying.

"Thank you, but won’t your clothes get dirty with blood? Are you okay with that?"

"I’m not in a state where I would be troubled by getting dirty."

"Too much self-deprecation... If you’re going to call yourself my slave, take better care of yourself."

With a half-smile, Flamm handed over the werewolf’s fang and the gauntlet. Anzu’s fang was too heavy for Milkit to carry.

"By the way, Master, I can tell that the large fang is Anzu’s, but what about the gauntlet?"

"Oh, this—on the way back to the entrance, I found the remains of a skeletonized adventurer."

In the dark, Flamm accidentally kicked something hard and dropped Anzu’s fang in surprise when she saw the skull roll. The reaction might not seem like that of someone whose body had been torn apart, but fear is fear. Upon closer inspection, the body was missing its lower half. It might have been an adventurer who, like Flamm, entered the forest to hunt werewolves and was killed by Anzu. The body was lying on the ground, still wearing armor and gauntlets. Seeing the equipment, Flamm was reminded of the time she was part of a hero party.

--- I want to be of some help to everyone, but there’s not much I can do.

At the time, Flamm was acutely aware of her own powerlessness. If she couldn’t do anything on her own, she had to learn from others. The people she traveled with were all top-notch warriors. She felt guilty about adding to their burden, but to her surprise, some of them were happy to teach her. Perhaps they felt sympathy for her miserable state. One of them was Gadio Lascutt, the "Arm of the Star Breaker." He was a large man in black armor, taciturn and stern, with a face that was frightening to look at, but he was surprisingly good at taking care of others. Although her physical abilities were too low to be of any use, she learned some sword techniques and received advice on being an adventurer.

"In battle, there are often dead bodies lying around. Many of them are wearing high-quality equipment, so most people, except for a few devout individuals, are happy to take them as extra income."

"Take the equipment from the dead bodies?"

"There’s no need to kill the equipment just because the user is dead. If you want to honor the deceased, you should make good use of it."

"But isn’t it scary, like it’s tainted with resentment?"

"Do you believe in that kind of thing, Flamm?"

"Sorry! Adventurers should be more realistic, right?"

"No, that’s fine. That sense is important. You’re right; the equipment of the dead can sometimes be tainted with the resentment of the original owner."

"Really!?"

"Yes, it’s called 'cursed equipment.' It can reduce your stats, become impossible to remove, or even cause death just by wearing it. However, as long as you don’t neglect to use a scan, you won’t be affected by the curse."

"But I can’t even use a scan..."

"Hmm, that’s right. In that case, find a companion. Adventurers shouldn’t act alone. You need a partner who can push you forward and hold you back when necessary."

--- This was one of the "lessons" Gadio gave to Flamm. The part she needed now was the part about the equipment of the dead being tainted with the resentment of the original owner. She tried scanning the equipment at her feet one by one, and one of them seemed to be cursed.

--------------------

Name: Blood-Stained Steel Gauntlet

Quality: Rare

[This equipment will reduce your strength by 82]

[This equipment will reduce your magic by 101]

--------------------

It might not be as impressive as epic equipment, but a total reduction of 183 in stats was significant. Flamm squatted down, approached the body, and after saying, "I’m sorry!" and putting her hands together, she pulled the gauntlet off the bones. If Gadio’s words were true, the owner wouldn’t resent her.

"--- That’s the story."

"Ah, cursed equipment, huh..."

Hearing the story of how Flamm obtained the cursed equipment, Milkit looked at the gauntlet with a complex expression.

"It seems the enchantment only activates when you wear it, so I think it’s fine to carry it. If you don’t want to, I can carry it, though."

"No, I can’t let a mere slave like me take it easy when you’re already carrying the heavy fangs."

"You’re so serious, but I appreciate it."

Thus, the two rejoined and headed back to the capital.

◇◇◇

The sky was completely dark, and the capital was bustling in a different way from the daytime. The streets, illuminated by magic lamps, were filled with women in revealing clothing, and the sound of rowdy adventurers could be heard from the bars. There were many touts, and some men who approached with a smile would look at the mark on Flamm’s cheek and make a disgusted face and walk away.

"It’s already night."

"Yes, I’m worried the guild might be closed."

Flamm was thinking the same thing. There was no mention of special hours on the guild’s sign, but—

"Since it’s also a bar, I hope it’s open. I don’t want to spend the night with these fangs."

They continued their conversation as they headed for the Adventurer’s Guild. When they arrived, the noise of drunk adventurers could be heard from inside, just like in the other bars. It seemed there was no need to worry. She pushed open the door with her shoulder and entered the facility, where several gazes pierced through her. The first time she came, they were all hostile, but this time, there was some noise mixed in. Some of them seemed to have bet on her and Flamm’s survival, and there were even people making victory poses.

"Here we go."

Flamm placed Anzu’s fang on the counter, and the receptionist, Ira, grimaced.

"Here’s the requested item."

The werewolf’s fang, which Milkit had taken, rolled onto the counter. Ira touched it with her finger and glared at Flamm with disgust.

"Does this mean I passed the test?"

"…This…"

"What?"

"This is invalid! A dirty slave like you can’t become an adventurer!"

Ira, hysterically shouting, grabbed the fang and threw it at Flamm’s face. But it didn’t hit. Flamm caught the white, curved object with one hand and placed it back on the counter.

"Isn’t it the guild’s job to give rewards to adventurers who complete requests?"

"Ugh…"

"And buy this too."

Anzu’s fang, which she had placed on the floor, was now on the counter, making the table creak under its weight.

"What… is this?"

"C-rank monster, Anzu’s fang. I encountered it by chance while looking for a werewolf and brought back the parts that could be used as materials."

The guild sometimes bought materials that were in demand, even if there was no collection request. Of course, it was more profitable to sell directly to someone who needed it, but many adventurers brought their materials to the guild to save the trouble.

"C-rank…?"

A girl who was supposed to have been killed by a werewolf had returned after defeating a higher-rank monster. Faced with this unbelievable fact, Ira was speechless. Then, two men with the appearance of thugs came from the bar side.

"Hey, girl, don’t lie. Anzu? A monster that big can’t be defeated by a slave girl. It’s a monster we can barely fight even in a party. Besides, I saw your stats with a scan, and you don’t even have the stats to fight an F-rank monster. You don’t even have proper equipment. If you’re going to lie, at least make it a believable one, okay?"

Man A said with a dirty grin.

"And… you smell weird. What is that smell? Whose bodily fluid is it? Girl, how many men have you been with? Oh, I see, you used that money to buy the materials from somewhere. Or maybe you caught an adventurer and got the materials in exchange for money. In that case, you’re better suited to being a prostitute than an adventurer—"

Man B, with his hand in his pocket, leaned in and said—

"Flamm Punch!"

Flamm, who had been listening with a vein popping on her temple, finally couldn’t take it anymore and punched the approaching Man B in the face. He was hit directly in the center without any guard and fell backward, blood spewing from his nose.

"Wh—What, you!"

"Sir, what’s your adventurer rank?"

"What? We’re both D!"

"Wow. D-rank adventurers are so weak that they can be knocked out with one punch from a girl with zero stats."

"Shut up, you—!"

The enraged man drew his sword from his waist and attacked. Flamm waited until he was close enough, then quickly drew Soul Eater from the subspace. Whoosh! The blade cut through the air, the tip of the sword drew an arc, and it was swung precisely at his neck. The man, realizing what was happening, stiffened and stopped in his tracks. The sword also stopped just before it hit his neck. If Flamm applied a little more force, blood would spurt from his neck, and he would be killed.

"Could it be, epic equipment…?"

"It’s cursed, though."

Flamm, judging that the man had lost his will to fight, put the sword back into the subspace. The man’s body