Chapter 13:  Super Strength

As soon as the city gates opened, I returned to Rosenne and headed straight for the Adventurers’ Guild.

I passed several adventurers already on their way out to earn money early in the morning. Most of them seemed to be lower-ranked, since the veteran groups usually spend several days out hunting. Some looked pale, probably hungover. But were being dragged along by their comrades anyway.

The guild’s cafeteria was packed with adventurers grabbing cheap breakfasts. Most were gulping down a 500-dara stew and rushing back out.

At this rate, it’d be hard to find someone to hire as a guide. It might be better to wander around the roads outside the city. I don’t have to worry about getting lost, but I’d like to avoid areas with few monsters—or those that are too dangerous—and I’m grateful I don’t need to earn desperately anymore.

From Werner to Folka to Rosenne, I had traveled east along the southern side of the Blange Highway, so today I decided to explore westward along the northern side.

Hunting birds earns solid money, so I decided to leave small animals and goblins for the low-ranking adventurers.
Between the Monster that come charging and the birds, that’s enough income for me.

As I walked from the road toward the forest’s edge, I practiced my neglected Herb Appraisal skill.

Then my detection skill picked something up—a mix of over ten beasts and people. I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on, but it felt like a battle.

Detection and presence-sensing—people often say they’re similar, but they really are quite different. Detection lets you know something’s there regardless of its state, but you won’t notice it unless you focus your awareness. Presence-sensing, on the other hand, reacts instinctively to hostility or killing intent, even if you’re not searching for it.

If it’s other adventurers fighting, I should probably detour…

“Hang in there!”
“Don’t lose to mere goblins!”

The voices carried on the wind—sounded like low-ranked adventurers struggling against goblins. I decided to go check it out in case they needed help.

There were six adventurers and a large number of goblins. The goblins had the advantage; several adventurers were bleeding or had injured arms, forced into a defensive fight.

I couldn’t just leave them to die, but the melee was too close for Bullet.

So I decided to confuse the goblins with a whirlwind. I cast Whirlwind! around the ones in the back, trapping them in spinning air currents. One after another, I wrapped goblins in whirlwinds, releasing the magic when I was sure they were dizzy.

By the fifth one, they noticed—but too late.

Dizzy goblins stumbled and crashed into each other, squealing in confusion. I wrapped a sixth goblin and flung it toward another fight, knocking down its comrades before releasing the magic.

The goblins’ coordination collapsed, their attacks weakening—but for some reason, the adventurers were swaying on their feet too.

Sighing, I stepped in from behind and skewered one of the goblins with my short spear. With their momentum gone, the remaining goblins broke and fled.

Those I’d spun with whirlwinds sat slumped or vomited, completely incapacitated. I silently approached from behind and slit their throats.

The adventurers, relieved that the goblins had fled, stared curiously at me killing the stragglers.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah… looks like you saved us.”
“I thought we were goners.”
“Didn’t expect that many of them.”
“Hey! Those were our kills!”

“Don’t worry—I’m not trying to steal your loot.”

“Nathan, that’s no way to talk after getting rescued. Sorry about him. I’m Gilling, leader of a small party called Rats of Roxanne. I don’t see any companions with you?”

“Name’s Leon. I work solo. Anyway, you’d better extract those magic stones and move out before more show up.”

The guy who complained glared at me like a dog guarding its food, so I turned away. Counting theirs and mine, there were thirteen goblins down, and with the ones that fled, it must have been a pack of twenty or more.
They should’ve just run—doesn’t look like a group with long lifespans.

“That guy’s solo? Doesn’t look it.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t seem that strong…”
“Still, what was that? The goblins just started spinning and dropped.”
“Whatever it was, it’s just goblins. He shouldn’t get cocky.”
“Idiot. We were the ones struggling against those same goblins. And after he saved us, we said that? I wanted to crawl in a hole.”
“Anyway, hurry up and grab the stones. Let’s get out of here.”

Next up, my detection skill picked up horned rabbits, hedgehogs, and the occasional “jumping mouse”—a little kangaroo-like rodent.

The shallow grasslands mostly had herbivores: sheep and elk… and—ah, a pack of dogs.

I’d planned to relax inside my dome barrier with some tea, but one of them spotted me and started barking.
Guess I shouldn’t have been so casual while practicing camouflage magic.

The dogs surrounded me, barking furiously but unable to reach me through the invisible barrier. Their frustration made them even louder.

Fine then. If that’s how you want it, I’ll take you seriously.

I gathered three of them into a Whirlwind! and commanded, Spin! Spin!

Their howls turned into pained whimpers as the spinning intensified.
By the time the whirlwind faded, all three dogs lay limp—blood streaming from their eyes and mouths.

The high-G forces inside the two-meter-wide whirlwind must’ve crushed them internally.

I decided not to take them to the guild; explaining this mess would just invite questions. I dragged the corpses into the tall grass and left them there.

If I recall, fighter pilots in anti-G suits can withstand up to 8 or 9 G’s during sharp turns.
Assuming 8 G’s, that’s eight times their body weight. Inside that vortex, the force must’ve been far greater.

They were literally crushed by their own weight.

I’ll need to be more careful with this spell against people.

While I’d been spinning those three, the rest of the pack fled in terror.

The next thing I ran into was a mid-sized horn boar.
I’d already decided not to hunt them, but this one came waddling right up to me anyway.

Too lazy to bother fighting properly, I used a trick spell — Ring, horizontal rotation!
The boar was caught in a spinning ring of wind and twirled around like a rotisserie pig before I flung it away.

It had clearly underestimated me, thinking it could handle a lone human — it must’ve been shocked to find itself spinning helplessly through the air.
Squealing cutely with a “puhi puhi”, it staggered off into the distance.

By the evening of the fourth day, I returned to the city of Rosenne and went straight to the Adventurers’ Guild.
It was absolutely packed this time.
When I told the old man at the purchasing counter that I was heading to the disassembly area, he glanced at me and nodded.

The disassembly hall was full of adventurers lined up, and I sighed — and, of course, being an unfamiliar face alone drew plenty of curious stares.

“Hey, kid. What’ve you brought in?”

“Mostly birds. Also some wolves and a horn boar.”

“How many people in your party?”

“Birds, wolves, and a horn boar, huh?”
“Hey, listen to that braggart back there.”
“He’s probably talking about little wolves and piglets or something.”

“Quiet! I’m the one asking here — you trying to butt in?”

“Ah— s-sorry, Strongarm.”

The rowdy bunch of muscle-headed men immediately backed down and apologized, cowed by the burly man’s presence.

“Now then, where were we? What party are you with?”

“I’m solo.”

“Hey, kid! Got any runner birds or chikki-chikki birds today?”

“Greg, I’ve got both — and some red chickens and green birds, too.”

“Oh, perfect. Come with me, then.”

“I’ve also got seven wolves and a horn boar.”

“No problem. I’ve been told to report immediately if any runner birds or chikki-chikki birds come in. I’ll give you a high rate today.”

“Oh? So he’s solo and skilled, huh?”

I nodded politely to the man speaking and followed the disassembly worker to the designated area, laying out my kills.

• Runner Birds ×7
• Chikki-Chikki Birds ×9
• Green Birds ×11
• Red Chickens ×15
• Black Wolves ×7
• Horn boar ×1

“Hmm… you took down black wolves in one hit, and the horn boar doesn’t have a single wound.”

So that big guy had followed me here, huh? I hadn’t even noticed him — impressive, considering his size.

“I shot them in the head with Bullet.”

“Bullet? So you’re an earth or ice mage? Either way, impressive aim.”

“Olga, this guy’s actually a wind mage. He keeps bringing in bird monsters, so the merchants have been hounding me to report whenever he delivers.”

“A wind mage, huh…? And you shoot bullets with that?”

“Wind magic can propel more than just pebbles, depending on how you use it.”

Then came the appraisal results:

• Runner Birds: 7 × 40,000 = 280,000 Dara
• Chikki-Chikki Birds: 9 × 66,000 = 594,000 Dara
• Green Birds: 11 × 31,000 = 341,000 Dara
• Red Chickens: 15 × 24,000 = 360,000 Dara
• Black Wolves: 7 × 32,000 = 224,000 Dara
• Hornboar: 1 × 65,000 = 65,000 Dara

Total: 1,864,000 Dara.

While the big man carefully examined the horn boar, the appraiser finished up and handed me the completed form.
I thanked him and accepted it.