Chapter 8: A Special Request

The ones caught up in the tornado had been flung away in a parabolic arc, and since they were hurled toward the forest, they probably didn’t survive.

“There should be two more archers who shot at us from the forest. What do we do about them?”

“They’ll probably run,”

“Yeah, and even if we reported it to the guild, they wouldn’t believe us. If they did, it’d look like three of us were picking a fight with eight of them.”

“Then I’ll kick up a dust screen so we don’t get shot at. Let’s hide over there.”

I expanded the wind barrier and boosted its strength, tearing up grass and soil from the ground until thick dust clouds rose, obscuring everything. Then I dissolved the barrier.

“Well, that’s one flashy trick, but now they can’t target us.”

“Let’s hide out around here and see what happens.”

We sat somewhere out of sight from where those guys had come from and calmly started drinking tea.
Those two—still casually coming and going at the guild even after disbanding their old party—really were something.

Mintz in particular had apparently been invited to join other parties many times, but he always brushed them off without concern.

I had both detection and presence-sensing skills too, but since I was still a rookie, no one took me seriously enough to invite me anywhere.

When we returned to town in the evening and sold our prey, we dropped by the tavern, where Scott grinned and said, “Let’s go say hi.”

Mintz waved me over, and when I asked what was going on, he told me the people at the table were the ones from earlier, members of Wolf’s Fang.

I think that was their name.
Standing in front of the two of them, who were gloomily downing their ale, Scott asked.

“Hey, what happened to your buddies?”

They glared at him furiously, but he just laughed and said. 

“What, don’t like my tone? How about a mock battle to settle it?”

“Scott, don’t drag me into this!”

“Relax. Against this lot, Scott can handle it alone.”

“Hey now, don’t make me do it by myself. You’re helping too.”

The moment the words “mock battle” came up, the whole tavern went quiet, and everyone turned to watch.

“Hey, that guy’s picking a fight with Wolf’s Fang.”

“Scott? That’s the forever-bronze-rank guy, right? Can he win?”

“You don’t know? He’s actually pretty strong.”

“Wait, isn’t Wolf’s Fang supposed to have eight people? Where are the rest of them?”

This was heading in a bad direction. Seriously, give me a break.

“What’s wrong? You only act tough when you’ve got numbers? Here it’s two on two. The kid behind me won’t interfere, so you’ve actually got a chance.”

“If you’ve got the guts to glare, then let’s finish this properly in a mock battle—no hard feelings after.”

Scott and Mintz challenged them, but the two men who’d been glaring dropped their eyes and said nothing.

“If you’re too cowardly to accept a mock battle, then get out of this town.”

“And if you stay, be prepared for what that means.”

Still looking down, the two of them stood up quietly and hurried out of the tavern.

“There are always guys who only act tough when they’re in a group,”

“You’re the one who said ‘mock battle.’ I was terrified, man.”

Yeah, I was the one terrified, actually. My heart couldn’t take this kind of stress.

“Hey Mintz, did something happen between you and Wolf’s Fang?”

“Why were only two of them around anyway?”

“Ah, down near the southern forest border, we got into a bit of trouble. Same old story—one of them started something, and I ended up breaking an arm or two. Those two were the first to bolt.”

“When we got back to town, they were just sitting there, drinking ale like nothing happened.”

“Well, that sounds rough.”

“Who knows where they came from, but when there’s eight of them, they sure like to act big.”

“Poor things.”

Everyone could guess what happened to the others from the tone of the conversation, but no one asked further. Adventurers were scary that way.

Because I’d been giving my mother 10,000 dara every day, it took eight months to save up 1,500,000 dara—so it ended up becoming a 17th birthday present for myself.

I went to the adventurer’s shop to register ownership and user restriction for the magic pouch. The magic tools store said extending the preservation time by ten hours cost ten gold coins plus a two-coin handling fee. I nearly fainted.

My Rank 3–10 magic pouch could preserve food that normally lasted one day for up to ten, but I wanted to make it thirty. That way, I could store more prey and even carry a portable camping house.

As promised, I went out to the plains alone once a week to hunt and practice magic.

I’d mastered Stone Bullet completely, so shooting arrows was even easier, and launching short spears with Lance was no problem.
However, since I couldn’t rapid-fire, I came up with a new idea: load a Rank 1–10 pouch with stones of different sizes, give them a vertical spin, and fire them all in a “scatter shot” version of Stone Bullet.

That meant I needed more pouches—probably two or three more for sorting stones by size.

My detection range had surpassed 70 meters, and sometimes I spotted things before Mintz did.
My presence-sensing worked up to about 50 meters—good enough to feel hidden prey or hostile intent.
My Appraisal skill had improved too—I could now tell if an unfamiliar plant was medicinal or not, and I could roughly gauge my remaining mana.

Wind magic isn’t something you use continuously, and even during hunts, I only cast a few spells per battle, so it wasn’t a big issue.

Lately, I’d been obsessed with a trick I discovered while hunting bats—encasing prey in an air bubble.
If I just wrapped them, they’d stay alive even after falling, so I started experimenting with expanding the bubble.

When I caught birds in midair with an expanding air bubble, they’d suffer from oxygen deprivation and either faint or die before hitting the ground.
Now I didn’t even need a bow to hunt Chiki-Chiki Birds or Red Chickens.

As a result, my solo practice hunts usually brought in Runner Birds and Chiki-Chiki Birds, which sold at high prices and made me quite happy.

Sometimes I’d bring them to the Olivetan Hotel where my mom worked, and she’d have the kitchen cook them up.
Half of it she’d bring home, and we’d have it for dinner.
The hotel staff didn’t mind, since those birds were high-end ingredients—whatever was left after cooking went to the hotel, so they were happy to oblige.

＊＊＊

“Leon, you’ve got a designated request.”

“Eh… me? But I’m just a Rank-2 Iron.”

“The submaster said it’s because you’ve been bringing in Runner Birds and Chiki-Chiki Birds. Go take a look at the request board. You’ll get a laugh out of it.”

Scott told me this with a grin. I’d never actually looked at the request board before, but Scott and Mintz dragged me over to it anyway.

There were two sections — general requests and designated requests — and both listed Runner Birds and Chiki-Chiki Birds.

The clients for the designated ones were the Travis Trading Company and Marks General Store.

“Are designated requests… something you can’t turn down?”

“Come on, man, this is Travis Trading Company and Marks General Store! Big names.”

“The reward must be huge… huh, it’s not even written down. Well, I guess they couldn’t get any through normal requests, so they had to designate you.”

“Anyway, go ask the submaster. Depending on the conditions, you might be able to decline… probably.”

“I’ve heard rich folks can be gluttonous, but putting in a designated request just for that? Seriously?”

“Since you’ve got family in town, it’s probably harder for you to turn down a rich client, huh?”

“You two are clearly making fun of me.”

“If you take it, show us how you hunt those birds.”

“Yeah, I bet it’s some trick only you can pull off.”

“Can I just… call up the submaster like that?”

“He’s the one who called for you. Tell the receptionist your name and ask what it’s about — they’ll tell you.”

So I went to the reception desk, gave my name, and told them I’d heard the submaster wanted to see me.
From the back came a burly man, muscles bulging, looked like he had some bear blood in him.

“You’re Leon, huh? I hear you’ve been selling Runner Birds and Chiki-Chiki Birds to the Olivetan Hotel. They’re tough to get through normal requests, so I guess that’s why those clients made a designated one for you. If you accept, you’ll get the usual market price plus a designated-request bonus.”

“How soon do they need them? And what happens if I refuse?”

“Well, rich folks tend to be persistent. You’ve got family?”

“Yeah. My mom and brother both work at the Olivetan Hotel. My dad and oldest brother work elsewhere.”

“Then take it once at least. If they start getting too pushy, come talk to me.”

The submaster’s name was Melvin — kind of cute for such a tough-looking guy.

“The request was for five and two Chiki-Chiki Birds, and five and one Runner Birds, but I can’t catch that many all at once.”

“Just bring in whatever you manage to get, say it’s for the request, and we’ll buy it under that name. Make sure you earn well.”

Scott and Mintz were grinning from ear to ear when I got back.

“How’d it go?”

“There weren’t any designated requests back during the Blast Incident, you know.”

“The submaster told me to take it once, and if they’re too persistent, just tell him.”

“Then starting tomorrow, we’ll hunt for the request, huh?”

“Can’t wait to see how you do it.”

＊＊＊

“Not much luck finding any.”

“Chiki-Chiki Birds won’t show themselves unless you hear their cries. Runner Birds don’t make much noise either.”

“Then how do we find them?”

“With Presence Detection. Runner Birds usually hide in thickets or large clumps of grass.”

“Then only you and Mintz can actually find them.”

“If they’re in bushes, sometimes you can see them a little — so you can spot them too, Scott.”

“Poking around in the undergrowth near the forest edge — you’ll get mauled by a monster doing that.”

“There’s something in that clump of grass over there.”

“We’re still a fair distance from the forest. Something’s really here?”

“Scott, it’s probably a Horned Rabbit or a Hedgehog. Maybe a Jumping Mouse. But if we flush it out, it’ll probably get away.”

“Then why don’t we have Leon catch it?”